Just One More (and other stories)
by Raberba girl
Summary: A collection of my miscellaneous Batman one-shots and vignettes. New story: What if Bruce Wayne adopted cats instead of children?
1. Just One More

Just One More

(rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

 _Inspired by Medli45_

Summary: Tim's been awake for way too long. (Fluffy ficlet.)

o.o.o

Timothy Drake spared just enough of a glance to confirm that the four intruders in his home were benign before reverting his full attention to the main computer screen in front of him. "Hi," he added as an afterthought.

Barbara made a flourishing gesture. "See? Safe and sound, not dead or kidnapped or mind-controlled."

"He does not look to be in good health, however," Koriand'r observed. "I have seen humans get like this when they suffer sleep deprivation and poor nutrition."

"Tiiiimmm," Stephanie chided as she strode over to her boyfriend, "why haven't you been answering your _phone_ , hon?"

"My phone?" Tim looked around vaguely as Stephanie perched on the arm of his chair. "Oh."

Cassandra held up the device with a slight smile. The screen was black, even with her thumb on the Home button.

"I believe the device is, as they say, 'dead,'" Kori said, "despite its inorganic state."

"Sorry," Tim mumbled, "didn't realize the battery had died..."

"What are you working on, anyway?" Barbara asked, peering at the screen bank.

"Yeah," Stephanie pouted. "What's so important that you'd skip patrol for two weeks, blow off a meeting with Batman, and then _completely_ fall off the grid for three days?"

"Eating? Not eating?" Cassandra wondered, more concerned about her brother's health than his availability. She looked around disapprovingly at the coffee-stained mugs and mostly-empty bowls of days-old ramen littering the desktop and floor.

"Definitely not showering," Barbara teased, ruffling her fingers through the young man's greasy hair before wiping her hand on her jeans.

Tim inadvertently closed his eyes in pleasure at her touch, his hands stilling on the keyboard for a moment. "Mm."

"Mmmm," Stephanie echoed, both hands replacing Barbara's to massage his scalp. "...Heh. It's gross but it feels weirdly good at the same time? So _soft_."

Tim, slightly arched with his face tipped up, made a visible effort to straighten and return his eyes to the computer. "Don't distract me, I'm almost done."

Instead, yet another set of feminine fingers slid through his hair. "I believe this is long enough to practice the 'braiding,' yes?" Kori remarked with interest.

"Yeah, but do you really want to practice on-?" Barbara started, then noticed Cassandra pillowing her cheek on her hands. The silent message was clear: _"Lull him to sleep, he needs it."_

Stephanie saw it and smiled. "On my man? Why not~"

"Guys, come on," Tim complained, dragging a couple of windows to a side screen in order to free up room on the main one, " _all_ of you have longer hair than mine, play with your own."

Kori was already fiddling with three locks of his hair. "Hold on, Kori," Barbara instructed, "pull it over the other way, see?"

"Ohhh, yes, I remember now."

"Here, Cass," Stephanie invited, keeping hold of her own half-finished braid as she scooted aside to make room. The fourth young woman smiled as she stepped up and started a braid of her own.

Tim gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the four sets of hands in his hair as best he could, but...it was so soothing, and he hadn't...slept in...days, really...just one more, one more file, and...he could...lie down for...jus' a few min...

The ladies worked hard to stifle their laughter. "Aw, he's so cuuuuute," Stephanie whisper-squealed.

"He'll kill us when he wakes up," Barbara murmured with a grin, "but, geez, look at those circles under his eyes, he might have killed _himself_ if he kept going like that..."

"He reminds me of a pet I had once, on Tamaran," Kori mused as she cupped Tim's cheek affectionately.

Cassandra leaned close and took hold of her brother, lifting him in her arms and carrying him to his bed. Stephanie tucked him in as Barbara tapped out a message to Bruce and the others, letting them know that Tim was all right. Then she turned toward her friends, who showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.

"I could use a nap myself," Stephanie yawned, cuddling close to her boyfriend.

"I need to practice more," Kori remarked, making herself comfortable so she could start on another braid.

"Exhausted, sleeping, vulnerable," Cassandra said with a small smile. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned against the headboard, comfortable but ready for action if necessary. "I protect."

"No sense in being left out," Barbara chuckled, snuggling against Tim's other side. She added in an amused mutter, "And of course the one who'll wake up buried in girls is the one who'll least appreciate it, hah."

At first they tried to keep their noise to a minimum for the sleeping Tim's sake, but one by one, they grew genuinely still and silent, until Cassandra was the last one awake, affectionately keeping watch over her companions.

o.o.o

A/N: I'm so bad at coming up with titles sometimes. X''D

I've been suffering from a depressive bout and a broken muse, desperate to write and really frustrated that nothing was _working_. (I had a good idea for Halloween that refused to cooperate; I hope the Christmas one works better...) I was thinking of bugging my friend Medli to throw Batman plunnies at me, because she is FANTASTIC at that, but then I remembered that I still have a large batch from months ago that I've barely touched. Started looking through the list and was surprised that this was the first one that "clicked" strikebecause there's no Dick or Damian in it XD/strike, but it did, so here we go. Thank you so much, Medli! *grateful hug*


	2. Warmth

A/N: I guess I'll start collecting my canon-based Batman one-shots and vignettes here.

Warmth

(rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

 _Inspired by Medli45_

Summary: Jason has trouble staying warm at the Manor during the family's holiday get-together.

A/N: The original prompt was for cold Timmy, but I changed it to Jason because I've seen hints in the comics that he is like me isn't a fan of cold weather.

I wanted to use my and Medli's headcanon dog for Jason, but the fic worked a bit better without her; sorry...!

o.o.o

"Jay!" Dick exclaimed as they set up the board game on the floor, "Why do you still have your hat and jacket on?"

"It's _cold_ ," his brother complained.

Bruce looked over from the couch where he was working on his laptop. "We can turn the thermostat up-"

"Nooo!" several voices chorused, "It's already too hot in here!"

"Whatever; I'll deal," Jason grumbled, pulling his jacket more tightly around himself.

Alfred stepped up with a disapproving look. "Master Jason, kindly come with me upstairs for a moment."

By the time Dick and Tim finished explaining the rules of the game to Cassandra and Damian, Jason returned, now wearing the knitted sweater, thick sweatpants and socks, and fluffy bathrobe and slippers Alfred had dressed him in. He didn't look miserable anymore as he lay back down on the floor with the others, but he still soon curled up with his hands tucked away whenever he wasn't moving his gamepiece. Though he didn't seem bored, he wasn't showing the enthusiasm for the game that his siblings were, either.

"For goodness' sake." Bruce got up, taking the couch throw blanket with him, and stooped to drape it over his second son.

"Man," Dick laughed, "you and Dami are such coldies."

" _I'm_ not about to go into hibernation like Todd is," Damian said, the only other person in the room as bundled up as Jason was. (Bruce and Tim had single-layer outfits and bare feet; Dick and Cassandra wore nothing but tank tops and shorts.)

"That's because _you're_ cuddling with two furnaces," Jason shot back, pulling the blanket closely around himself.

Damian looked rather smug, tucked away as he was between Dick and Titus.

"Come here, boy!" Jason called, and Titus straightened to attention. "C'mere, Titus!"

The Great Dane twitched uncertainly, until Damian ordered, "Titus, stay." The dog, though still watching Jason almost apologetically, laid his head back down on his primary human. "Hah!"

"Whatever. Dumb dog..."

Ten minutes later, when Jason was exhaling on his fingers with the blanket hooded over his head, Tim frowned and spoke up. "Seriously, Jason, we _can_ turn the thermostat up if you're really that cold."

"Or I can fetch a space heater," Alfred offered.

"I'm _fine_!" Jason burst out, throwing the blanket off and defiantly sprawling out. "I've been through worse. Leave me alone."

No one dared bring up the subject again now that his mood had taken a downturn - the Wayne family had suffered too many emotionally broken holidays already; keeping up the peace and good spirits was becoming a higher priority these days.

Still, Jason started to shake as he lay stubbornly stretched out on his stomach, and nudged his gamepiece along whenever necessary with blue-tinged fingernails and a complete lack of interest. Just when Dick opened his mouth to risk saying something, Cassandra shifted until she was lying right on top of her brother. "Mm," Jason murmured.

That seemed to do the trick, especially when Alfred laid the blanket over the two of them again. Jason closed his eyes and gradually stopped shaking.

"Jason," Tim said a few minutes later, "it's your turn."

There was a pause. "Is he asleep?" Dick wondered.

"TODD," Damian burst out before his brothers could stop him, "MAKE YOUR MOVE."

"Mmmm. Shut up," Jason mumbled. "Not playin' anymore." He fell asleep bathed in warmth and love, Damian relished his increased chances of success now that there was one less rival on the gameboard, and everyone else was glad to see Jason comfortable at last. Win-win.


	3. A Grateful City: Isaiah

A Grateful City

Series summary: Various ordinary citizens of Gotham encounter their city's vigilantes. Vignette series.

Isaiah

(rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: A little boy sees his chance to give his Christmas request a boost.

o.o.o

Six-year-old Isaiah Jones was walking home with his mother when they rounded a corner and were faced with flashing red and blue police lights. The cars were parked and silent, but officers were milling around the aftermath of whatever crime had recently happened, and Isaiah's mother tightened her hold on his hand to steer him around the scene.

The boy, however, caught sight of something that made him pull against her grip: a tall black figure speaking to the police commissioner, his cape stirring in the wind and his distinctive cowl silhouetted against the emergency lights. "Mom! Mom, it's _Batman_!"

"Isaiah-"

She lost her grip on him as he pulled free and ran to the man in black. He tugged eagerly on the long cape, and the dark figure turned to stare down at him. "Batman! Batman, I want a Dino-truck for Christmas!"

There was a long pause, as Mrs. Jones apologized profusely and the police commissioner covered his mouth to stifle a chuckle.

"...I'm Batman, not Santa Claus," the vigilante finally said.

"Okay, but you know Santa, right? Can you please tell him that Isaiah Jones wants a Dino-truck for Christmas? I've been really good this year!"

"...I probably won't see Santa before Christmas. But... _if_ I do...I'll tell him."

"Aw! Thanks, Batman!" Isaiah hugged as much of the Dark Knight as he could reach, then took his mother's hand again and did not stop smiling all the way home.

o.o.o

A/N: I probably ought to have integrated this into one of my real Christmas fics, but I don't know for sure if those will be finished in time (especially since my muse is currently obsessed with _The Birds Who Smile_ ), so I opted to write it as a separate vignette for this series.


	4. A Grateful City: Sharon

_**A Grateful City**_ **, a Batman fanfiction series by Raberba girl**

 _ **Sharon**_ **(rough draft)**

Summary: Shortly before Christmas, a toy store gets an unusual customer at closing time.

o.o.o

"11:00, Sharon," the manager called.

The designated closer of the night grabbed the keys and headed to lock the front door of the toy shop. Just as she was starting to pull down the security grille, a dark figure tumbled out of the sky. "Wait wait wait wait wait!"

Sharon screamed as the man landed in a crouch at her feet. He waved his hands up at her and smiled disarmingly. "Sorry!"

"N-N- _Nightwing_?!"

He rose gracefully to his feet, the smile still in place and putting her at ease despite her still-pounding heart. "Hi! Yeah, I just, please, don't close yet!"

"Uh..."

"Do you still have any Tessindales?" he asked urgently. "Tessindale the ninja elf?"

"Y- You mean the action figure, or the collectible statue?"

"The action figure. I've been looking all over _town_ this week, but everyone's out!"

"They're pretty popular this year." She felt her mouth stretching in a smile of her own. "Christmas shopping?"

"Yup! For Robin."

She laughed, tickled by the idea of Gotham's vigilantes doing something as mundane as Christmas shopping, and in costume, no less. "I think we've got a couple more in the back."

"Awesome! I know you guys are technically closed, but do you think you can bring me one? I've got money."

A few minutes later, Sharon and her co-workers crowded at the front windows to watch Nightwing grapple off into the night, his prize clutched in one arm.

"Was that really _Nightwing_?! Being a _customer_?!"

"He really is as hot as they say he is..."

"You think Robin will like it?"

"I dunno, I've heard the Robin these days is a total brat."

"Still a kid, though. Even brats can like action figures."

"I'd _pay_ to see Batman and them opening presents on Christmas morning like real people."

As Sharon went home that night, the knowledge that she had been able to do something for the Bats, to show even a tiny bit of appreciation for all they had done to protect Gotham over the years, sparked a warm glow in her heart.

o.o.o

A/N: This was the original idea I had for this series. I've got one more pre-written vignette, and a list of more plunnies left to work on. (They're not all Christmas-themed. XD)


	5. A Grateful City: Layla

_**A Grateful City**_ **, a Batman fanfiction series by Raberba girl**

 _ **Layla**_ **(rough draft)**

Summary: A young woman finally gets a chance to thank the boy who saved her years ago.

o.o.o

Her first instinct was to scream when she saw the man lurking in the entrance nook for her and her next door neighbor's apartments, but at second glance, she recognized the helmet. It was one of those vigilantes, not a criminal. "R-Red Hood?!"

"Just carry on, I'll be gone in a minute," he snapped, barely looking up from the injury on his calf that he was treating.

Layla took a deep breath. The chances were slim that she'd ever get a chance to actually speak to any of Gotham's vigilantes again. "Do you...do you happen to know who the Robin was in 2007?"

He froze ominously.

"I don't need to know his secret identity or anything!" she said hastily. "I just wanted... Do you know him? Is there any chance you could get a message to him?"

"...That was me. I was Robin in 2007."

"Wait- _You_ used to be Robin?!" She knew that Red Hood was, at least sort of, an ally of Batman, but she'd never dreamed that the gun-toting vigilante with the most violent reputation of the lot had actually been a _Robin_ , much less the one she remembered.

"You got a message or not?" he said defensively.

"Please don't be mad at me! I'm _really_ glad to meet you. I-" She drew in another steadying breath. "When I was eleven, our house burned down. Robin was the one who found me and led me out, and calmed me down, and stayed with me until the ambulance came. I-I just wanted to thank you. All this time...I still think about it a lot... Just- Thank you. Thank you for saving me, and for being so nice to me afterward."

He fidgeted for a moment, then tugged his boot back over his freshly bandaged leg and stood up. "You're welcome," he said awkwardly, before vanishing into the shadows.

Layla exhaled, and her heart felt lighter as she unlocked the door of her apartment.

o.o.o

A/N: That date was very vaguely guesstimated. X'''D


	6. Gotham's Knight

Gotham's Knight

(rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: Bruce Wayne starts falling into a bout of depression, so Gotham City has a talk with her favorite son.

o.o.o

Bruce Wayne had long ago learned the art of self-control. He had a firm grip on everything from his body to his ki to his thoughts. He was perfectly capable of forcing himself through his usual workout regimen even though he felt so much more tired than usual, and dumping the usual number of bound, battered criminals on the roof of the GCPD even though he felt like strangling them to death instead, and keeping his mind on The Mission when what he really wanted to do was dig a grave for himself next to his parents' and then fall asleep in it forever.

 _'It never ends. Never any mercy or respite. It will always be this way, until the day I die, because any bright spot of hope or joy that happens to venture into my life is always extinguished.'_

The Mission. Work. Training. Breathe, and hunt, and fight; do not think unnecessary, counterproductive thoughts.

As always, his family was what suffered most during these times.

"Master Bruce, I must _insist_. I know for a fact that you've eaten nothing for the past seventy-two hours."

"Just leave it there on the table."

"And come back to find that you've either not touched it or fed it to the bats? No. I will remain right here until you have consumed every bit of that meal."

Bruce was losing patience. "Then you'll be waiting a long time, Alfred," he snapped.

Sometimes it was the animals, Titus yelping in pain when Bruce accidentally stepped on his paw and could spare no time to comfort him, or Alfred just barely managing to flee out of the computer chair before a preoccupied Batman sat on him.

Sometimes it was Damian, shouting at his father and then storming away to his room to hide his hurt at being ignored or unfairly scolded.

Dick and Tim hadn't messaged in over a week - they knew to steer clear when Bruce got like this. He missed them, and was irritated with them, and grateful that they were staying out of his way.

When he thought about them at all. Which wasn't often. Except whenever he thought about the sort of family he could have had with them, in another life, in a world where he and Dick didn't fight so much and Jason had never died and Tim had never been rejected and Damian's mother had only love in her heart, rather than madness and cruel ambition. A world where they didn't need to patrol the filthy streets at night and send filthy people to jail, who only cycled through the system and then back onto the streets again even worse than before.

The Mission had always been doomed to failure. No matter how hard Batman fought, he could never truly win. The darkness would always be there, always several steps ahead, always ready to strike back and overcome whatever tiny fragments of light he managed to find. No happiness ever lasted.

That open grave was looking more inviting every day.

o.o.o.o.o

That night, Batman perched at the highest point of the city, looking out over it. Bright lights and blood, shouts of laughter and screams of pain, good people just trying to survive and bad people determined to deny them even that...

A woman alighted on the spire beside him, dark wings extending from her back and black silk barely covering her shapely body, fangs in her mouth and blood on her hands. Her heart was rotting in her chest, visible through the gaping wound in her flesh. "Hello, darling," she said warmly.

Because this was a dream, he knew that she was Gotham. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"I've been worried about you."

"You never worry about me. All you care about is chewing me up and spitting me back out - laughing at me and placing bets with _your_ Rogues to see how long it takes me to stagger back to my feet this time."

"Bruce, you know I do no such thing. I care about you very much, you know."

He turned to glare at her. "Don't lie to me. I _amuse_ you."

She met his look squarely. They were standing comfortably on a rooftop now, no longer in precarious perches. "Sometimes, yes. But I do love you, Bruce - I love both Bruce Wayne and Batman, _dearly_ , for nurturing my needy children by day and protecting them by night. It distresses me whenever you're depressed, and this bout has been particularly alarming."

"I am not depressed."

"Suicidal thoughts are a glaringly obvious tip-off, dear."

"I am not suicidal."

"Wanting to quietly stop existing counts. Before, you were at least destructive and lively, but this time...it's like you've given up completely. You can't do that, Bruce."

He threw a batarang at her. It came to rest in her hair as gently as a butterfly, then stayed there like a hair ornament.

"Well," Gotham amended, not even acknowledging the interruption, "I suppose you _could_. But I know you won't do that, Batman, because you love me too much to abandon me."

She was infuriating. "You're not human, so it technically won't be murder if I kill you."

She smiled again. "That sounds promising. Will you try?"

"...No." He was too tired.

"See, this is what I mean," she said, and there was sympathy in her voice. "Darling, I want to help. I really do."

"Do you?" he snarled. "Then KEEP Joker and the others locked up where they belong, _stop_ driving dozens more people insane every month, and stop encouraging the petty criminals! It's _too much_ , Gotham! I'm only a man, and this battle is a losing one!"

"Well...yes."

His silence spoke volumes.

"Dearest," she murmured, "I am very ill. I wasn't always, but first the earthly demons infected me...and then the unearthly ones did. Unless someone who loves me as much as you do gets the power to fix me, I will never be healed."

"Like I said," he muttered, "I'm only a man."

"I'm not blaming you. Bruce, do you have any idea how hard it was to find you? In all the centuries I've existed, only you, out of all my millions of children, have ever been kind enough _and_ mad enough _and_ strong enough to be my Knight. You've even raised up more little knights who don't have to be insane in order to fight for me! They couldn't have done it without you and your shadows guiding them."

"You're saying only someone who's insane could be Batman?" The moment the words left his mouth, he winced. Only a crazy person _would_ be Batman...he'd walked right into that one.

Yet Gotham didn't treat it as a joke. "I'm mad, too, dearest. My madness seeps into my children, corrupting or hurting them as I am. Like I said - only you have ever been so kind and strong that you continue to drag me toward the light, even though such a task is impossible."

"So you're saying I should quit."

"Batman. Look how sick I am now." She opened her arms, as if to present the wound in her chest that continuously oozed black liquid. "If you give up, the rest of me will waste away as well."

He could see it in his mind's eye - supple limbs turning gaunt and brittle, bright eyes dimming, lustrous hair falling out. For all of Gotham's faults, she _was_ at least still beautiful, in some ways.

"And all my people with me, instead of only some of them."

"...So I press on, then," he said bitterly. "Fight until my body falls apart, work myself to death and misery so that others can be marginally more happy."

"I do try to compensate you, when I'm strong enough," she said, a little defensively. "Lucius isn't the _only_ reason you're so wealthy. And don't you like all the children I've given you? I know how much you love children."

A cold suspicion crept up his spine. "Children you tormented until they had to flee to someone like _me_ for safety? Why couldn't you have given me children without breaking them first?"

"I _tried_! That was _your_ fault - you refuse to spread your seed no matter how many beautiful women I offer you, so I had to find other ways to get babies for you!"

"What ways?" he demanded.

"Don't act so surprised, Bruce. If you won't make your own children, then you have to adopt displaced ones, and children do not become displaced unless bad things happen to them first."

" _What ways_?"

She sighed. "You know. I gave Tony a little extra nudge, and the Todds, and Boomerang, so that the little ones would become available for you, and I convinced the al Ghul woman-"

"You _killed_ them! You killed them all just so I could take their children!"

"Yes," she huffed. "Like I said, I'm crazy. Sometimes I'm just the kind of crazy where I sit quietly for a week and hate myself, other times I'm the kind of obsessive stalker crazy who wants to eat you - thank you for not letting me, by the way - and other times I'm the kind of raging psychopath crazy who thinks all the blood Joker and the others feed me is delicious. I can't always control it."

"You don't deserve to be fought for."

"Maybe I don't. But you still fight for me, because you love me."

"I hate you. You try to break me every night. You hurt my _family_."

"Why don't you leave, then?"

He did not answer. He never felt quite right when he wasn't in Gotham, and the few times he'd tried to leave on a more long-term basis, he found it intolerable. It was as if a piece of his heart was part of the city itself.

"Yes, Bruce," she whispered. "Right here." She held her wound open a little wider, revealing a spot of blood-red, healthy tissue pulsing gently within the rot. "In some ways, you and I are one. You can never find a woman you feel right settling down with because I am already your true lover."

He couldn't deny it. "So there's no escape, then. I fight the losing fight until I break completely. There's no hope and nothing to look forward to."

"Do you think that Superman or Diana of Themyscira, for all their powers and determination, could keep this up for long? They are just as strong of heart as you are, but you continue to endure even where they would fail. They could force me clean if they were persistent, but they can never heal me - I would simply spawn more and more madness until they lose their faith in humanity.

"You're different, Batman. You never force me to be good, or hold me to a standard I can never reach. You give each of my children a choice, and even if they choose darkness, you never lose hope that they _could_ have made a different choice - that they still might, someday. You let yourself fall into madness so that you would understand exactly how hard it is for us to keep our eyes on the light. You prove, every day and every night, that such a choice is still possible."

"...I'm tired, Gotham."

"I know, sweetheart. I know. That's why I'm so worried. If you break... _when_ you break...what will happen to me? That's why I had to come see you, because I'm afraid you'll leave me, and I'm scared."

She was crying now, and her body was a child's rather than a woman's, and Bruce found it so easy now to put his arms around her and hold her close. She nestled into him, making a little sigh of contentment and staining his suit with the black liquid seeping from her heart.

He found it easier to think of her like this, as a terminally ill child who treasured each additional day of life because of it. Something like that, he could fight for. "Gotham," he murmured, "don't hurt anymore children for my sake. I'd rather have no family at all than children who suffered because of me."

"Okay," she mumbled, her fingers tightening in his cape.

"I'll keep fighting. I'll keep you alive until the day when someone comes along who _can_ heal you."

"Maybe." She kissed his cheek. "Whether that day ever comes or not, you have my love forever, Batman."

o.o.o.o.o

Bruce opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, and even though it had been just a dream, he felt...better than he had in weeks.

He got up and leisurely readied himself for the day, and wandered in search of what little of his family remained at home. They were both in the library, Damian reading on a couch as Alfred dusted, quietly keeping each other company. Titus, curled up on the floor, raised his head at the appearance of the master of the house.

"Good morning," Bruce greeted.

"It's after noon," they replied in unison. Alfred smiled; Damian blushed and looked away. "You look well, sir," Alfred said, sounding surprised and pleased.

"I'm hungry."

Alfred looked even more pleased. "I'll bring you something directly." On his way out of the room, Bruce reached to clasp his arm for a moment. They shared a wordless, warm look, then Bruce released him and Alfred continued on.

Bruce wandered closer to his son. "What are you reading?"

"The first installment of a series Kent wouldn't shut up about. It's drivel."

Bruce smiled at the sight of Damian holding a book that had been written for his age group, even if he wasn't enjoying it. "Think of it as research. It's sometimes convenient to be familiar with popular culture."

Damian set the book aside and studied him. "...Pennyworth was right. You look...refreshed."

Bruce sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. Damian made no attempt to shake it off. "Among other things, I remembered that life is short and that kids grow up too fast. I missed out on ten years of your childhood; it's stupid of me to get so wrapped up in myself that I miss even more. Is there anything you'd like to do today?"

"You mean...together? With you?" Damian asked cautiously.

"Yes."

"Hmph." The condescending scoff couldn't hide the spark of hope that had ignited in Damian's eyes. "I can think of a few things."

"Just say the word." He'd have to remember to invite his other children over for dinner soon, as well. He missed them more than he would ever admit.

"And we'll have a better patrol tonight, right?"

"Better?"

"One where you're the one reining me in like you're supposed to, instead of the other way around."

Bruce tugged him a little closer. "Yes. I'm sorry for the...mood I've been in lately. I really am all right now."

"Good."

They sat quietly together a little longer. Bruce contemplated this moment with his son that he loved, in the home and the city that he loved. Each of them was one more treasure to savor in a life where no ray of light could be taken for granted.

o.o.o

A/N: This idea randomly hit me this morning. It's been so long since I've drafted anything successfully, it felt good to finally write something that worked.

If you're following my other Batman fics, _The Birds Who Smile_ is still a while from being updated - I haven't officially started the next chapter yet, but I finally got around to working on my notes, and I've been playing with some imagination drafts. _A World With Happily Ever Afters_ is a mess, and will need some untangling before I can continue. DX There are no issues with _In the Birdcage_ , I'm just procrastinating on that one because it's not fun to write.


	7. A Bat and His Cats

A Bat and His Cats

(rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: What if Bruce Wayne adopted cats instead of children?

o.o.o

Bruce was forced to wake up two hours earlier then he had to, because his most ornery cat had decided to sit on his face. "Jasooooon," Bruce groaned, trying to shove the brat away.

At this sign of life, the warm weight on Bruce's chest didn't move but started up its usual diesel engine purring. "Yes, good morning, Dick." Bruce tried to go back to sleep, but Jason was now making his enormously obnoxious _"FEED ME NOW"_ meows as he paced forcefully across Bruce. On top of that, needle-sharp kitten teeth were pouncing and biting at his fingers as if Damian hoped that maybe _this_ time they had morphed into his breakfast. "Uuuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhh..."

Bruce finally gave up and dragged himself out of bed, dislodging cats. "I hate you all."

"Mrraghn?" Duke vocalized.

"No, you're right, I love you all, even Jason, but you're still monsters." Bruce went to the bathroom and filled Jason's bowl, which the cat immediately plunged his head into and guarded zealously. The second bowl nearby was filled with kibble as well, and just like every single freaking morning, Damian charged at it, then mewed up at his human with a deeply betrayed expression. "Damian, you _know_ the bathroom is kibble only. You'll get wet food in the kitchen later."

The black kitten continued to stare up at him accusingly until an older yellow cat barged past him, sending him sprawling. "Stephanie!"

Ignoring him, she plunked her head into the bowl. Although she gobbled as enthusiastically as Jason, unlike him, she didn't mind when other cats edged around her to snatch a few nibbles.

Bruce filled the third bowl with fresh water, saying wearily, "Dick, _please_ ," when the gray-blue cat wound lovingly around his ankles, forcing Bruce to step very carefully.

The cats lounged or played around the bathroom as he showered, with Barbara as usual enjoying a shower of her own, following Bruce into the stall so she could sit in the warm spray from the showerhead. Damian, also as usual, had scrambled into the stall as well to prove he could do anything the older cats could do, and was now pressed into the farthest corner, yowling in displeasure. "You _know_ there's lots of water in here," Bruce mumbled in exasperation. "Why do you keep coming in every morning...?"

When he finished and stepped out, he waited for the cats to shake themselves, then set down a fluffy towel for Babs to roll herself dry on, carefully scrubbed most of the water off Damian, then set the bedraggled kitten down in front of Dick to finish the job. The older cat happily started grooming Damian, putting out a paw to hold him down when the kitten attempted to worm free.

Bruce shaved and combed his hair. As soon as he was ready to go downstairs, the cats, who had all been pretending to be bored and casual, immediately leaped up and followed him in an eager cluster.

"Good morning, Alfred."

"Good morning, Master Bruce," the butler replied, glancing up from his cooking.

While he worked on Bruce's breakfast, Bruce himself worked on the cats' breakfast. Once again, he had to carefully navigate around Dick practically gluing himself to Bruce's ankles, and now it was Damian making obnoxious _"FEED ME NOW"_ noises at him. "Damian, you have to _wait_ , because I have to warm it up. If I give it to you _now_ like you're asking, you're going to turn up your tiny pink nose at it and wonder why it's cold and gross."

Although Damian's mews were by far the most annoying, most of the other cats were also practically singing with anticipation behind him. Bruce finally started setting down bowls of warm, moist, meaty food.

Damian was the first to reach a bowl, but was immediately bumped aside by Barbara and Stephanie, who both seemed happy to share a bowl. The kitten shrieked in indignation and in turn shoved Dick away from the second bowl. The older cat merely sidled around to settle into munching again. Tim and Duke were amiably sharing the third bowl, and Jason, having already eaten his fill for the morning, had been long gone since before Bruce's shower. Tim soon stepped away to take a long drink of water, and his place was taken by the soundless Cassandra.

Bruce, meanwhile, was chewing his way through his own breakfast. Tim leaped up to the table and stepped lightly around the serving dishes. "Tim, get off the table," Bruce mumbled absently.

Taking no notice, the cat sat down near Bruce's plate and started batting at the newspaper Bruce was trying to read. "Stop that."

 _bat bat. bat. bat bat._

"Tim."

"Mrow."

Dick hopped into Bruce's lap, turned around a couple of times, then settled down, purring. Bruce winced and pushed the cat into a more comfortable position before scratching him under the chin. Dick raised his head, leaning into the touch, and stretched luxuriously. "Did you finish eating, Dickie?" The cat purred harder.

When Bruce was ready to head out to the car, he took the WE cat carrier down from its shelf. As always, Tim ran up eagerly, and Bruce felt bad about pushing him away. "I'm sorry, Timmy, but I can't take you." Tim _loved_ going to Wayne Enterprises, but was so inquisitive and unintentionally destructive and distracting that Bruce had had to give up. Dick made a much better office therapy cat, but ever since Damian's introduction to the household, the kitten pitched a fit and tore up the manor when bereft of his favorite companion all day, so Bruce had had to start leaving Dick at home, too. Cass tended to be difficult to find sometimes, and troublemaker Jason was out of the question, so Bruce usually rotated between Barbara, Stephanie, and Duke. Today was Duke's turn. "Duke! Let's go to work."

The young brown cat streeeetched, made a show of idly considering, then ambled over and stepped into the carrier. "Good boy." Bruce spent another minute crouched on the floor, scratching furry heads and stroking fluffy backs. "I'll see you all later. Be good." His 'children' meowed at him. "Goodbye, Alfred."

"Have a good day, sir."

o.o.o.o.o

It was an average day, decently productive with no crises. As usual, Duke spent half his time lounging around Bruce's office and the other half ambling throughout the floor, allowing himelf to be petted or held by office workers who needed a break (or a listening ear). At the end of the day, Bruce collected him, fed him a treat, and scratched behind his ears before putting him back in the cat carrier and driving home.

As soon as the car was parked and Duke was let out, Dick and Damian came running up. Dick swirled gracefully up Bruce's body until he was perched on the man's shoulders; Damian meowed insistently at the human's feet until Bruce picked him up and started caressing him between his hands. The kitten struggled to get free (he didn't quite manage it), but the lack of complaining indicated that he felt soothed.

"Time for training," Bruce remarked. He went down to the Batcave and changed into a set of gi before starting on his usual training regimen. Dick always beautifully imitated his flips and rolls during gymnastics; Cass slinked curiously around (and sometimes over) him during his kata; Jason liked to canonball off him as if legitimately attempting to throw off his aim during target practice; Stephanie liked to gallop alongside him when he did sprints; Duke often sat on his back while he did push-ups; Tim made his way across the bar and stepped over Bruce's fingers during pull-ups; and Barbara gazed at him with an unimpressed look while he was lifting weights. Damian simply followed him around the entire time, making ratchety _"Pay attention to me!"_ noises.

The kitten finally got his wish. When Bruce was finished meditating, he spent a few minutes caressing the content Dick and sulky Damian, who had both settled on his lap while he cooled down. The other cats trotted over and meowed to be petted, too, so Bruce did his best to stroke six cats with only two hands. Then he got up and went over to give Tim his share, since the small tabby was too busy trying to take apart a ball of yarn to ask, and then Jason, who was radiating jealousy from where he crouched on top of the computer. He basked in Bruce's arms for a minute, then accidentally let out a purr. He kicked out of Bruce's hold and vanished into the darkness of the cave.

Bruce got dressed, occasionally pausing to rescue bits of his armor from the inquisitive Tim or Barbara; to pet Damian, who was loudly complaining with _"Don't leave!"_ noises the whole time; and caress Dick, who kept doing tricks for attention or curling up in pieces of the Batsuit because he knew Bruce would have to pick him up to get him out of the way. "Shameless little attention hogs."

o.o.o.o.o

Theoretically, none of the cats could leave the manor, Bruce even put trackers on them, yet they still mysteriously managed to get out. He often crossed paths with one or another of them, most often Jason snd Stephanie, while on patrol, going about their own business while he went about his. He had never once actually caught sight of Tim in the city, yet the little tabby's tracker almost always registered near Batman's every time he checked. When Dick had been younger, he'd actually been a significant help to Batman on several cases, and the other cats occasionally contributed as well.

This particular night started out quiet. Batman, after checking in with Jim Gordon, swung away and caught a glimpse of a feline silhouette in the commissioner's office window that might or might not have been Barbara. Batman sighed, ignored it, and continued on to check out the lead on the robbery Jim had given him.

The busywork turned out to be not so minor. Something else had been stolen along with the cash, something that two gangs and a meta from Central City wanted. Batman, realizing the scope of what he'd stumbled upon just seconds too late, was now caught in a deathtrap while a supervillain monologued and a gang war raged outside. "...but you already knew that, didn't you! Oh well. Say goodbye, Batsy!"

The villain punched the button on his remote. Nothing happened. He frowned and pressed it again, with the same result, then looked at the control panel of his death machine.

An ink-black cat was sitting on it, gazing coolly at him.

"Cass! Go home!" Batman hissed softly, worried for her. The young female was even more mysterious than most cats, having shown up on Batman's patrol route one night with human-inflicted scars and such profound silence that Bruce had incorrectly thought at first that her vocal cords were damaged. (She did hiss when she was fighting, and make very soft purrs when she was extremely happy.) She was as invisible as Tim when she wanted to be, but, like Dick, seemed to take a strangely active interest in some of Batman's cases.

She had saved his life more than once, as she did now, peeing on the death machine's control panel (it short-circuited) before dodging the enraged villain's retaliatory blast of power and then clawing at his left eye, landing behind him with a blood-flecked paw before he even screamed.

Batman escaped his bonds before the villain recovered and finished incapacitating him. By the time he looked up, Cass had vanished again. "Thanks, Cassie..."

o.o.o.o.o

It was past three in the morning when Batman returned to the cave. He pulled off his cowl and collapsed into the computer chair with a groan.

Dick instantly leaped onto him and started his usual _"I'mma get that icky Gotham street smell off My Human"_ routine, rubbing his scent glands all over Bruce's chest and neck and face, purring so hard as he worked that Bruce could feel his lungs rattle. He idly caressed the cat as he did so. Then, when the jabs and bites at his ankles got too annoying to ignore (kitten teeth and claws couldn't penetrate the armor, but he could still feel the insistent bumps against his feet), he leaned down with a groan to scoop up Damian and start petting him, too.

Barbara sat grooming herself on a work table, while Duke napped in the basket beneath it and Jason restlessly prowled around the weapons rack. Cass materialized almost out of nowhere, sniffed delicately at Bruce, then disappeared again. When Dick finished his ministrations, he lay sprawled over Bruce's chest and shoulder, still making his happy diesel engine purrs, and Damian had fallen asleep under the slow stroking of his human's fingers.

Bruce used his other hand to work a laser pointer out of his utility belt and start dancing it along the floor, smiling when Stephanie raced to catch the elusive red spot. They played until Bruce felt up to working on his post-patrol reports, so he turned off the light and set a hand on Dick so the cat wouldn't fall when he straightened up to work.

 _7 Sept. 2018, 03:31_

 _Commissioner's lead on the Cornerstone robberies connected to Neon Dragawewgdk_

"Tim," Bruce said in fond exasperation.

The cat continued on a few more steps, garbling the report even more, before pausing to gaze at Bruce, the tip of his tail flicking idly.

"Get off the computer, I'm working."

Tim casually glanced in the other direction, at the computer screen, then sat down right where he was on the keyboard. As his butt summoned a long string of 'd's, he reached out a paw to tap the 'i' key.

'p,' Bruce typed.

'j'

'a'

'y'

'i.' The game, as it had been invented after Tim had been at the manor for a couple of months, was that the cat typed letters seemingly at random, and Bruce did his best to make words out of them.

 _dipjayinpie_ , this particular round ended (minus the ten million 'd's in between each letter). "Okay, Timmy, that's enough, I really do have to write this report."

o.o.o.o.o

Bruce threw himself onto his bed in exhaustion, and soon felt the cats gathering (minus Duke, who was more active during the day and had headed off into the manor rather than the master bedroom). Barbara lay down in her favorite cat bed by the desk; Stephanie played with a (thankfully non-jingly) cat toy on the floor; Tim investigated a (thankfully empty) mug on the nightstand that had earlier held coffee. Dick and Damian curled up in their respective favorite sleeping spots, Dick on Bruce's chest and Damian on the pillow near his head.

Bruce fell asleep to Dick's purring. He woke up half an hour later to the almost painful sensation of Jason licking insistently at a spot on his forehead, and pushed the cat away. Jason hissed, plopped down half on Bruce's neck, and started to groom himself. Bruce intended to push the brat away again, yet despite the restless movement, Bruce somehow fell back asleep before he could do more than rest his fingertips against the cat's fur.

Jason eventually settled down. Tim came to lie along Bruce's side, and Stephanie went to cuddle with Barbara. Cass kept watch over her family from her vantage point atop the bookshelf, but the hours before dawn were all peaceful.

o.o.o

A/N: I had this idea ages ago, but didn't know what to actually write for it until the past few days, when my muse was suddenly and randomly like, "YAY BATCATS!" XD

I've been working to organize my notes for _The Birds Who Smile_! The "John vs. Bruce" arc is so dang complicated and difficult for me, but I'm trying. X''''D


	8. For When You Fly Beyond My Reach

For When You Fly Beyond My Reach

(rough draft)

A fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: Bruce keeps an eye on his Robins' trackers.

o.o.o

Bruce spent far longer than he should have watching two stationary dots on a screen, but he couldn't help it. Knowing that the blue dot was Dick and the red one was Jason, seeing them _together_ for the first time...wondering what they were saying to each other, if they liked each other, worrying how Dick would react to the bad news, wishing he could have gone himself, lamenting whatever he had done wrong to ruin his chances of a favorable reception... With all the thoughts rushing through his head at the sight of those two little dots, it was a long time before he could tear his eyes away.

He finally managed it, though. There was work to be done, both of his Robins could take care of themselves, and Jason would call if he was in trouble. Dick wouldn't call, but Bruce would still know. If he looked away for a moment, for an hour or two, it would be all right.

He kept checking periodically, making it an exercise in self-control to allow himself five seconds before putting the phone away and returning to his work. The boys - young men - were fine. Still together, so neither of them had driven off the other yet; that was good. They were in one of the safehouses. No new bodies matching the Melting Man's MO had turned up, everything was fine.

Bruce went about his day, took a nap, went on patrol. It was after he had returned home and showered, while he was taking a break from typing up the night's report, that he checked the tracker program again and received a jolt.

Jason was on his way back to Gotham.

 _Dick was still with him._

Bruce stared at the screen in disbelief, hope slowly rising up within him. Jason was just a couple of miles away from the city limits, and _Dick was with him_ , trackers so close together the two dots almost looked like one. They were in the same vehicle. _'Dick is coming home.'_

Bruce was just lowering his thumb to Alfred's speed-dial number when he remembered that the man was preparing for bed, if he wasn't asleep already. Bruce texted instead.

The response came a minute later: _I see I shall have to change the menu for tomorrow's supper._

Bruce smiled to see it. Maybe Dick would stay longer than planned if he was enticed by his favorite meals and guilt-tripped by the effort Alfred would put into them.

Although Bruce had been weary and longing for bed just minutes before, now he felt buzzing with energy, so he went to Dick's bedroom. Alfred would freshen it up tomorrow, but Bruce could add some personal touches to make it as welcoming as possible for its intended occupant. He set Zitka on the bed and wiped dust from the Flying Graysons poster on the wall, then made sure the lightbulb worked in the circus-themed lamp that had once helped chase away young Dick's nightmares.

 _'Dick is coming home, Dick is coming home, Dick is coming home...'_

It had been so long. Bruce had thought he might never see Dick again, that the boy - man - might never forgive him. He'd...he realized now that he had jumped at the chance to take in Jason and train him as Robin in order to fill a hole in his life, to fill the manor's silence with a boy's bright voice again. Yet instead of filling that void, Jason had created his own space. Bruce cared for the boy and couldn't imagine the manor without him, but the first void was still there. Jason was an addition, not a replacement.

Dick's loss still hovered in the mansion's halls as much as the absence of Thomas and Martha did, but now at last, at _last_ , Dick's place would be filled again. Bruce's living family would once more be whole. Maybe-

...Well, perhaps it was too much to hope that Bruce could repair his relationship with Dick, but he could at least try to show his first ward that the manor wasn't _bad_. That perhaps visits every few weeks or so might not be unpleasant after all. Maybe he could give Dick a new Porsche to replace the old one, if he could figure out how to gift it without Dick perceiving it as a bribe.

Bruce couldn't stop his imagination from spinning out ridiculous fantasies, scenarios like Dick moving back into the manor or Batman flying out with two Robins every night or Dick calling him 'Dad' like Jason had tentatively started doing sometimes, things Bruce knew would never, ever happen. Simple visits would be enough. Just seeing Dick again, keeping the inevitable arguments low-key, reassuring himself in person that Dick was alive and safe and well, _maybe_ watching the boys tease each other and wrestle and hang out like brothers...

Those would be enough, but his foolish brain wouldn't stop with the happily-ever-after fantasies, so after he was done in the bedroom, he went back down to the Cave. He occupied himself in the training area until, at nearly five in the morning, Robin came blazing in on his cycle.

Bruce approached to greet him, trying not to seem too eager, eyes roaming in search of a second passenger or a second vehicle and finding neither. Maybe Dick was lagging behind for some reason? But no, with how close the trackers were, Dick should have been _right there_ , yet there was no sign of him-

Bruce realized the truth, his heart plummeting, just as Jason pulled off his helmet and complained, "Should've known Dick Grayson would be an _actual_ dick, no wonder you fired him."

"I didn't-" Bruce started automatically, not knowing or caring what he was saying. It shouldn't hurt this much. It was a simple misunderstanding, he'd survived far worse traumas; he shouldn't feel so _crushed_ just because-

"Caught the guy," Jason added, peeling off his mask. "Saved Boy Wonder's life a few times, too, not that he ever thanked me. Robin 2.0 really is the new and improved model."

And now Bruce's breath was coming just slightly faster than usual, because the disappointment and grief were giving way to worry and uncertainty. If the tracker was _here_ , that meant...that meant he no longer had eyes on Dick. That meant he no longer knew if Dick was safe, if he was even alive. For all Bruce knew, his first Robin could be in danger, hurt, bleeding out, _dying_ , and Bruce wouldn't even _know_ until it was too-

"By the way." Jason tossed what he had just dug out of a utility belt compartment; Bruce caught it by reflex. "Total overreaction. I wouldn't've said anything if I'd known he was going to _slice it out of his freaking arm_."

Bruce stared at the tiny silver speck in his palm as if it was the only thing he had left of his eldest son: a link that was now severed and useless.

o.o.o

A/N: This is what I thought of as soon as I saw Dick handing his tracker to Jason in _Titans_.

I love and usually write happy family fluff, or angst with happy endings. This is one of my rare stories that...does not fit the pattern. I have no idea why I felt inspired to write this.


	9. Batfam Bingo 2019: Green

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: Green (rough draft)

A Teen Titans fanfic by Raberba girl

 _Inspired by breezy-cheezy (Medli45)_

Summary: (DC Animated Movie Universe, with bits of other canons thrown in) Damian Wayne & Garfield Logan discover that they have something in common.

o.o.o

Garfield was the only one in the kitchen when Damian came in, freshly showered and in full uniform after his daily training. "Good morning," Gar greeted cheerily. It was a little past noon. "Going somewhere? You're all dressed up."

"Hnn," Damian grunted in response.

"Wow, good thing Nightwing got you away from Gotham when he did, Batman's _really_ been rubbing off on you."

Ignoring him, Damian peered into the refrigerator.

"Want some pesto?" Gar offered.

At that, Damian turned to the green shapeshifter with an interested but suspicious expression. "Not if there are eggs in it."

"Nope! Totally vegan."

Damian waited until he had witnessed the other boy taking a bite before saying, "Very well, I shall try it."

Gar nudged the pesto and the bread a little farther across the table. "Knock yourself out."

Damian delicately scooped a small piece of bread into the sauce and nibbled on it. The domino mask hid his eyes, but from the way his brows and forehead moved, Gar could tell that his eyes widened. "This is, surprisingly, not terrible."

Which Gar knew by now was Damian-speak for, 'This is really good.' "Thanks! I make it myself."

"Hn." Damian sat down and started eating more steadily, the boys taking turns dipping bread into the pesto.

"So you're vegan, too?"

"I am vegetarian. I will only eat eggs and dairy if I know they are humanely sourced."

"Awesome. I hear Wayne Foods has a pretty good reputation for that sort of thi-" Gar paused and blinked. "Wait."

Damian was smirking. "Indeed. I handpick all the inspectors and sometimes visit the farms myself."

"Woooww. Did you give your dad the idea?"

"Yes, and I am on the board of directors as well."

"That's crazy. Does anyone ever get annoyed having a ten-year-old for a boss?"

"If they do, not many let it affect their work. Drake, for all his failings, set a useful precedent."

Gar tried to remember who 'Drake' was and eventually came up with a vague memory of a hyphenated name and a teenage CEO. "Are all Bats basically child adults?"

"I don't understand your nonsense."

"You wouldn't, I guess... So you like animals?"

Damian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. " _Real_ ones, I suppose, are often preferable to human beings."

"I'm a real animal," Gar huffed. "That's why I'm a vegan. Once you've been someone, it just feels _wrong_ to eat them, or the stuff that's meant for their babies, or wear their skins..."

"You don't have to be an animal shapeshifter to have empathy for them."

Gar smiled. "Yeah, I know. That's what makes you really cool."

Damian, not seeming to know what to do with the compliment, finally shoved another piece of bread into his mouth. The little bowl of pesto was running low.

"You have any pets?"

"Hnn," Damian said through his mouthful of bread. He laid his phone on the table and tapped at it.

"Awww!" Gar squealed at the sight of the Great Dane on the screen. Damian swiped to the next picture, which was of a black and white cat. "Awwwww!" The next was of the giant dog touching noses with a cow in what looked like a cave. "AAAAWWWW- You have a _cow_?"

"I rescued her from a slaughterhouse. She is the reason I no longer eat meat."

"That's awesome, dude."

"I have a turkey as well, but Pennyworth put his foot down and I had to send him away from the manor. Jerry is doing very well, though, living on one of the Wayne Foods retirement farms. He still recognizes me when I visit him."

"A turkey... Let me guess, it was November when you adopted him."

"...Yes."

Gar held up his hand for a high-five, and Damian stared at it for a minute before remembering Grayson's lesson on how to appropriately respond to such a gesture.

When Jaime wandered in a little later, he was met by the improbable sight of Gar and the prickly, arrogant Damian Wayne huddled together over a phone as if they were the best of friends. Damian was _smiling_ , sort of. Maybe not technically, but his face was soft and relaxed and the corners of his mouth were just short of turned upward, so it counted.

"...still have not decided on a suitable name," Robin was saying. "He visits every so often, so you might get a chance to see him sometime."

Gar looked up, his eyes shining. "Jaime! Jaime! Damian has a pet DRAGON! He has _two_ dragons!"

"The Eastern one is a friend, not a pet, and Goliath is a dragon- _bat_ ," Damian corrected, but no one heard him.

"No way," Jaime was saying as he crowded closer to the phone and stared, gaping, at the photograph of an Eastern dragon napping alongside a cow, a furry red creature with bat wings, what might or might not have been a dog, and an unidentified ball of black-and-white fluff on the dragon's snout. "No way! Photoshop!"

Damian indignantly pulled up a short video of the same scene. The camera moved in for a close-up, capturing the animals' gentle breathing and the slight mist of steam issuing from the dragon's nostrils. _"You are a very good girl and boys,"_ Damian's voice on the video crooned with an almost scary level of affection.

"Yep, _totally_ fake," Jaime teased. "The real Damian would never-" He cut himself off and reevaluated when he saw the expression on Damian's face. "I'm just joking, D. Your animals are amazing."

"Yes, of course they are," Damian said haughtily. He looked back down at the phone and started searching through his photos, face soft again in a way he probably was not aware of.

 _'It's a good look on him,'_ Gar and Jaime both thought.

o.o.o

A/N: Damian really does have an Eastern dragon friend. XD See Rebirth _Nightwing_ #42. Jerry the turkey is from the _Li'l Gotham_ comics.

I have WAY too much other stuff to write to be dumb enough to sign up for a fandom event, but...I did. X''''D Tried to soothe my guilt a little by writing an old prompt from my friend Breezy. I'm going to still keep trying to prioritize my other fics, though (TBWS, KH Batfam, and the genderswap).

For anyone who wants more information on the event, its Tumblr is "batfambingo2019," and there's also an AO3 Collection. (I won't be adding most of my contributions there because I don't like to post stories separately if I can help it. I will record my progress on my fanfiction index.)


	10. Batfam Bingo 2019: Birthday

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: Birthday (rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

 _Inspired by breezy-cheezy (Medli45)_

Summary: Damian angsts over his birthday gift to Dick.

A/N: The "Birthday" prompt is not actually on my own bingo card, I found it on someone else's, then Breezy got her card and it was on hers, too. XD In any case, I'm writing this for the Batfam Bingo 2019 event even though it doesn't count toward my current card.

I'm ignoring mansion floorplans for the sake of storytelling convenience; let's just pretend the whole family has bedrooms on the same side of the house.

o.o.o

Birthdays were significant events in America.

And not in a 'We will battle every year on your birthday, and the year you beat me is the year you meet your father' sort of way. They were significant in that the subject was spoiled and pampered as a reward for continuing to breathe 365 days after their previous birth anniversary. It was all ridiculous and nonsensical, but then, so was Grayson.

And it was Grayson's birthday.

It was Grayson's birthday and Damian had no idea how to spoil and pamper him properly.

Last year, Grayson had been Batman and Damian hadn't even known it was his birthday until Pennyworth brought out a cake and a small wrapped gift during lunch. Grayson had lit up, thanked the butler, made a wholly unnecessary happy fuss over the cake and gift, and then, in a strange reversal, started crying in the changing room before patrol when he thought he was alone. Damian hadn't known what to say, so he had silently retreated in favor of checking over his utility belt, and the incident had been forgotten.

This year, the family was much bigger - Father was back, Drake and even Todd were reconciling with the family, Cain had returned to America, and everyone, including Gordon and even Brown, was spending the weekend at the manor. Decorations were already going up, and Grayson was teasing his siblings as they worked to keep their gifts a secret from him until the actual party when he was allowed to open them. Todd and Brown were making bets with each other about how much or little Grayson would like everyone's gifts. Damian had overheard Father and Drake having a rueful conversation about how difficult Grayson was to shop for.

Damian himself was...concerned. Because descendants of the Batman and the Demon's Head did not _panic_ , so he was concerned.

If even Father had trouble procuring a suitable gift for his beloved eldest child, how did Damian, who barely even knew how American birthdays were traditionally celebrated, have a hope of finding something to give to Grayson that wouldn't disappoint him and shame Damian with the failure?

"It doesn't have to be a tangible gift, you know," Gordon told him, cutting right to the heart of his question even though Damian had been very careful to ask her without sounding like he was asking anything. "In fact, Dick in particular cares more about the heart of the gift than the present itself, so intangible gifts have a better chance of making him genuinely happy than things you can buy."

Damian had no idea what an 'intangible gift' could even be. "Hmph. Of course a whimsical person like him would enjoy a gift with no substance."

She smiled. "He wants _sentimental_ substance. Like taking him to a Haly's performance, or granting him a favor you never would under ordinary circumstances. I bet he'd love it if you hugged him voluntarily, without grumbling or struggling. A nice long, cuddly hug. Bonus points if it's in public."

Damian was horrified. He felt _sick_. "As if I would ever embrace Grayson where Father could see, or _Drake_! It is unseemly!"

"But Dick would love it," she pointed out, which, damn it, was true. "That's what would make it a gift. That you'd sacrifice your own dignity, or whatever inhibitions you have about it, and do something just for him, that he would really enjoy, for his sake, because you love him."

"Of all the ridiculous-! I should have known better than to ask a woman!" Damian stormed away, feeling concern concern _concern_ roiling in his chest and making it hard to breathe. Even...even if he _wanted_ to hug Grayson in front of the family...he couldn't. He just _couldn't_ , it- It was wrong, Gordon was wrong, Grayson was a wrong, stupid _idiot_ , why couldn't he be satisfied with a purchased gift so Damian could just be done with it...?!

o.o.o.o.o

Damian typed "intangible gift ideas" into a search engine on a secure computer, so that Father or _Drake_ couldn't hack it and see what he'd been looking up.

 _Homecooked meal_ , was one of the suggestions. Damian didn't know how to cook anything other than for sheer survival, but maybe if he asked Pennyworth for assistance...? Pennyworth wouldn't betray his confidence, surely?

...Foolishness. Pennyworth was Father's employer and had been loyal to Grayson far longer than he'd been loyal to Damian. He was not safe to entrust this secret with.

 _Tickets to an event the recipient is looking forward to_. Grayson already dragged Damian to many of those, so doing so didn't seem special enough to qualify as a gift.

 _Cleaning and tidying_. Out of the question. Damian was a prince, not a _servant_.

 _Skill or expertise_. ...Most of Damian's skills were of a sort that was not approved of in this house, but killing efficiently wasn't the _only_ thing he knew how to do. For example, he could play the violin quite well. That was a non-lethal talent, or at least it could be. It usually was. It _was_ when practiced as originally intended (Damian had never actually killed anyone with a violin bow or a piece of a violin, even though he knew how). Yes, he could...he could play a song for Grayson on the violin (in private, of course). That would be sufficient as a gift, correct?

"I think he would like that very much," Father assured him when Damian worked up the courage to ask. Damian wasn't sure why Father's expression was so soft and affectionate, it was a simple question. Damian now had a new problem, and that was figuring out which piece to play for Grayson.

His first inclination was to play something that would be the greatest demonstration of his skill, but he overheard an exchange between Cain and Drake that reminded him that the gift was supposed to be for Grayson. Sentimental substance, Gordon had said, and since Grayson seemed to have no real appreciation for classical music, it would probably be meaningless, _worthless_ , if Damian played any of the masterpieces he had been trained in.

Perhaps one of those excruciatingly awful 'pop' songs Grayson was so enamored of?

Damian went back to the Internet, and, after shutting himself in a soundproof cell in the Batcave (with the wall turned opaque and the security system set to let him out on command), started struggling through a tutorial for a violin cover of "Shake It Off." He finally paused the video and nearly threw the violin down in disgust. It was just too awful, he couldn't stand playing this rubbish. "Why must you have such AWFUL TASTE, GRAYSON?!"

Frustrated, he went up to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, then wandered into the living room as he drank it.

His so-called 'siblings' were all draped around the living room, watching TV like the mindless wastes of time they all tended to be during the day. Well, Todd was curled up in an armchair with a book, and Gordon and Drake were idly working on their tablets, but they were splitting their focus, and Grayson and the younger women weren't even making a pretense of not being useless.

Grayson held out his arms without bothering to move from his lounging position on the floor. "Damiiiii! Come cuddle with me!"

"Absolutely not, Grayson," Damian snapped, his gift-related frustration spilling over into general anger at his oldest brother. He sat in a proper, straight-backed chair and stormily continued drinking his tea.

"Damian doesn't love me," Grayson pouted, like an imbecile, as if Damian hadn't just spent so many hours agonizing over a gift solely for his sake.

"Damian doesn't love anyone," Drake said flatly.

"Quiet," Cain ordered, looking at both of them and then at Damian. "Dick's weekend. No hurting."

"I didn't even touch anyone!" Damian protested.

"You think words can't hurt?" Brown said indignantly.

"Explains a lot," Todd remarked, lazily turning a page.

"Quiet," Cain said again, and everyone reluctantly settled down.

Damian recognized the cartoon on the screen, though he had no interest in it. It was a pastel-colored show about superheroes and jewels, featuring an incompetent boy who was inexplicably coddled by the warriors who had taken guardianship of him. Grayson quite liked it; Damian didn't hate it (it was far better than the thrice-damned _friendship ponies_ , in any case).

Damian let his thoughts drift as the episode played on. Should he keep looking for a song for Grayson, maybe more rock than pop, or should he just give up the violin idea altogether? Maybe he shouldn't even give Grayson a gift at all. Everyone in this household thought the worst of him, anyway; Grayson thought Damian didn't care about him, no one would even be surprised if Damian didn't bother to get a gift for his brother's birthday. No one would care. It wasn't even worth it. Birthdays were stupid, American culture was stupid, and Damian just wanted to go on patrol but it was still hours until sundown. And he'd finished all the tea in his cup. He hated his life.

 _"[*censored because FFN is stupid*]"_

Damian stiffened, caught off-guard by how close to home the words hit, sung in that gentle voice. He stared at the screen, which was now showing scrolling credits with that soft song playing in the background. No one else was paying attention; Gordon, Todd, and Drake were absorbed in their tablets and book, Grayson and Brown were having a 'thumb war,' and Cain was watching them with a grin.

 _"_ _ _[*censored because FFN is stupid*]_ "_

Damian swallowed and paid close attention to the credits until, near the end, the song's title appeared. He quickly memorized it, then left the room to look it up in detail.

o.o.o.o.o

Learning how to play the song from memory in about a day wasn't difficult, Damian had spent his childhood violin lessons learning to play _much_ longer and more complicated pieces in similarly short periods of time.

The difficult part was trying to figure out how to deliver Grayson's gift, because there was no way in hell Damian was going to play the violin in front of any of his other siblings. Perhaps he could pull Grayson aside...down into that soundproof cell in the cave...play the song for him, and be done with it.

Except he never even had a chance to get Grayson alone to _ask_. The day of the man's birthday, party guests started showing up at eight in the morning, before any of the manor's inhabitants were even awake. The security system recognized and admitted them, and Damian found several speedsters and an alien hanging out in the kitchen when he came down for breakfast.

That was simply the prelude. The mansion continued to fill with more and more people throughout the day, until it was so loud and crowded that Damian had no peace unless he locked himself in his room or escaped to the woods beyond the gardens. The day passed in a whirl of stress and chaos, then the actual party started in the late afternoon and Damian had to retreat to his room again.

Pennyworth eventually ordered him down. Damian huddled miserably by the pool as Grayson sat at the picnic table, beaming, a _child's_ paper party hat on his head and a lavish cake aglow with candles in front of him. The singing of that horribly uncreative American birthday song from what sounded like a thousand throats was probably loud enough to be heard in the city.

Everyone cheered, firecrackers and other obnoxious sounds were produced, then Pennyworth and Father started slicing into the cake and handing out pieces with ice cream on plates as Grayson began opening gifts.

He started with the ones from his family, simply because there were so _many_ from his friends. Everyone cheered and cooed at the various offerings: a teddy bear that was apparently an in-joke, useful new equipment, vital information on a tricky case Nightwing had been working, and so on.

Then, "What about Damian's present?" someone called out, and then a half-laughing chorus of "Where's Damian's?"

"Where _is_ Damian?" someone wondered. Someone else pointed, and then, to Damian's consternation, almost _all_ of the considerable number of guests turned to look at him.

"Dami!" Grayson cried, sounding amused but looking concerned, "What are you doing all the way over there?"

"Birthday parties are a ridiculous waste of time!" Damian shouted back, panicki- Feeling deep concern. "We should be getting ready for patrol!"

"We're _going_ on patrol later," Brown said, "just not right this second."

"Dami, come on over here, buddy," Grayson said, standing up and taking a few steps.

Starfire beat him to it, soaring across the pool and scooping Damian into her arms before he realized her intent. "Unhand me, alien!" He struggled, but she took no notice as she sailed back to the party table and deposited Damian on his feet. He growled at her.

"Should have dropped him in the pool," someone remarked, and everyone laughed. Damian's hands itched for his katana.

"Seriously, though, where's your present?" Drake asked, hunting through the discarded wrapping paper as if everyone had somehow missed an extra box in the pile that had been carefully kept separate from the other guests' presents.

"There is none! I didn't get you anything, Grayson," Damian snarled, "because birthdays are a pointless _waste of time_. Hurry and open the rest so we can put an end to this exercise in frivolity and get to _work_."

There was a titter of indignation from the crowd, but Damian didn't care about them. It was Grayson's sad, slightly hurt look that felt like a punch to the gut. "In a minute, Dami," he said quietly, reaching out for one of those hair ruffles he was so fond of.

Damian jerked away before Grayson's fingers could make contact. However, he didn't resist when Father's hands came down on his shoulders and tugged him back. "Calm down," Father murmured in his ear, and Damian clenched his teeth together.

Grayson was back to his usual grin, this time looking at his friends. "It's okay, it's okay," he was saying, soothing feathers ruffled on his behalf, "I wasn't expecting anything, anyway." Damian's chest tightened, even though he had no idea why such a reasonable comment hurt. "The best _present_ my favorite ninja assassin baby can give me is his _presence_."

There was a chorus of groans. "That was _so bad_ -"

"-wasn't even _original_ , Dick, come on!"

Everyone was soon distracted by the rest of the gift opening. Damian wrenched free of his father's grasp and stomped all the way across the yard and up to his room. He slammed the door shut and locked it, stuffed earbuds into his ears, made Titus get off the quilt so he could fold it back, then called his dog back onto the bed. He laid the quilt back over them both and nestled down, wrapping himself around Titus and squeezing his eyes shut as he hid his face against the dog's fur. He concentrated hard on the music in his ears and willed the tears not to fall.

o.o.o.o.o

Patrol, once they FINALLY started it, was a relief, though quite annoying when Father kept scolding him for being too rough on the criminals. "He was going to stab him, Father!"

"I know you know how to disarm a man without injuring _three_ of his limbs, Damian."

The scolding was endless, and came from multiple people, and when Drake made a critical remark about his latest tactical move, Damian couldn't stand it anymore. He flung the comm out of his ear and grappled away alone. Fleeing fast and smart enough to finally lose Father was a good distraction.

He tried to continue patrolling alone, but things had gone quiet now that the criminals knew the Bats were so active. Damian tired of soaring quietly from building to building, and made his way over to the zoo.

It was Grayson who eventually found him hugging his knees on a bench as he watched the elephants sleep.

"Hey, bud," the man murmured, sitting down beside him.

"I hate birthdays," Damian mumbled into his knees.

Grayson put an arm around him and leaned his head on Damian's. "Too many people today, huh. Sorry."

Damian's gloved fingers tightened. "They weren't there for me, they were there for you. My feelings on the matter are irrelevant."

Grayson turned his head to kiss his hair before resettling. "They're relevant to me. Next year, I'll try to think of a compromise."

"...Nightwing?"

"Hm?"

"Was...was that true? When you said the best gift I could give you was simply my presence?" That didn't make sense.

Grayson chuckled. "Well, not the _best_ gift. But honestly, Damian, it just makes me happy to be with you. I got plenty of presents today, and even if I hadn't gotten any at all, it was the best thing in the world to see almost everyone I love all gathered together. It's okay if you have something against birthdays and presents. It was enough that you came to my party for a while, okay? So don't worry about it."

"You are...a sentimental fool, Nightwing," Damian said heavily, because he didn't know how to say what he was actually feeling, how to even articulate it.

"And you are a precious, adorable baby."

"I am not a _child_ , Nightwing, why must you insist on infantilizing me?!"

Grayson eventually coaxed him home, where they showered and changed and completed their reports in companionable familiarity. They went up to their rooms, and Damian pulled out his tablet and accessed the tracker program. Pennyworth was home, of course, as were Brown and Drake, unfortunately. Damian occupied himself as he waited, keeping an eye on the Bats' trackers.

The rest trickled home, singly or in pairs. Once everyone had finally retired for the night, Damian took a deep breath. This was his chance. Everyone would be in bed, no one would be awake to hear. Grayson might be satisfied with Damian's mere presence, but Damian _had_ prepared a gift for his birthday, and it wasn't right to withhold it just because Grayson had made excuses for him.

In the hallway, Damian's hand froze before it reached the knob. He... All he had to do was simply enter, take out the violin, and start playing. If Grayson was already asleep, surely he would wake up at the sound of live music right there in his bedroom. He would sit up and...and listen, and...look at Damian playing for him...

Damian grimaced and pulled his hand back. He couldn't _stand_ even just imagining the expression on Grayson's face. The surprise, like he never expected his imperfect little brother to be capable of such a thing; happiness, certainly, but it just...it wasn't...after he had told Damian he was not bothered by the lack of a gift, it would seem like Damian had done this as an afterthought, a poor substitute, because he'd been too cowardly to present it at the proper time...

Damian fled back to his room and buried himself in his bed, hating himself. He wanted to fall asleep with that hatred, punish himself with it because he had failed Grayson on his stupidly important American birthday.

An hour later, Damian was still awake, because he _couldn't fall asleep_. Nothing he tried worked, all he kept thinking about were violins and disappointed brothers and people hating him so much they'd laugh at him being subjected to the indignity of being dropped in a pool. They all _knew_ he wasn't a fit brother for their precious Grayson. They knew Damian had hurt him, and they wanted to punish him for it, and only Grayson's generous heart had eased their censure.

It wasn't that Father's ragtag orphans weren't worth the Wayne name, it was that Damian wasn't worth being related to the best one of them, he couldn't even do something as simple as play a ridiculously easy song for the man who'd sheltered, taught, and loved him, he couldn't- Well, he _could_ , he was _going to_. He got out of bed and grabbed the violin. If he was too cowardly to play it to Grayson's face, he'd find a _different_ way to play. The balcony. He could stand on the damn balcony and play the damn song and then the damn gift would be _done_.

Damian rigged a sling for the violin case so he could carry it on his back while he climbed to his oldest brother's balcony. He set the violin case down on the stone floor and took out the instrument, tuned it. Couldn't stand the thought of facing the window, imagining the curtains suddenly ripping open as he played and Grayson staring out at him, shocked that his stupid, helpless, cowardly, infant 'ninja assassin brother' actually had the guts to play a song from a children's cartoon.

So Damian turned away, facing the vast greenery of the Wayne grounds and the quiet sky, and he fitted the violin under his chin. And he started to play.

 _"_ _ _[*censored because FFN is stupid*]_ "_

The last notes died away. Damian slowly lowered the instrument, then just stood there, feeling like a fool. He'd just played to no one. Grayson had long ago fallen asleep, and exhausted after a patrol, when the violin music was outside, behind a layer of reinforced glass and muffling curtains, he probably hadn't even stirred.

But Damian had done it, he had played a song with sentimental value to his brother, so even though Grayson likely hadn't heard it, the gift had been given. It was done. It-

Arms wrapped around his waist, lifting him slightly off his feet, and a face pressed against his hair. "Oh, Dami, that was so beautiful. I _loved_ it. Thank you."

Damian had no idea why his brother was crying when he sounded so sincere, or why tears sprang to his own eyes.

o.o.o.o.o

Dick woke up in alarm when he heard weird sounds, like there was an injured animal outside his window. How would an injured animal get up to a second floor balcony, though? Was it a bat? Did injured bats sound like that?

Then the music started, and Dick realized that what he had heard before were the sounds of a violin being tuned. His eyes widened as he got out of bed. Someone was playing the violin on his balcony. And...he knew that tune. The lyrics sprang automatically to his mind.

 _"_ _ _[*censored because FFN is stupid*]_ "_

Someone was playing a violin cover of the _Steven Universe_ ending theme on his balcony. Dick only knew one person who played the violin this well, but there was no _way_ that person would waste his skill on a cartoon theme song.

At five in the morning. The day after Dick's birthday.

 _'Oh my God.'_ Breathless, Dick peeked through the curtains. His knees went a little weak and he wanted to cry with overjoyed shock when his guess was confirmed. _'Oh my God, precious baby Dami is playing_ _Steven Universe_ _. FOR ME.'_

Best birthday present ever.

Dick, not wanting to scare him off, soundlessly opened the sliding door and stepped outside so he could listen better. The music was perfectly clear in the open air, and tears slid down Dick's face at the sheer beauty of the sounds flowing from his baby brother's fingers.

 _"_ _ _[*censored because FFN is stupid*]_ "_

 _'Damiiiiiiii!'_

Dick waited breathlessly until the song ended. Damian held his pose for a moment, then slowly lowered the instrument and stared out at the grounds, his shoulders slumped as if in defeat.

Dick wrapped his arms around his littlest brother and hugged him tight. "Oh, Dami, that was so beautiful," he whispered.

"A five-year-old child could play a song that simple," Damian complained, squirming, but in the halfhearted way that meant he didn't mind the cuddling and only had to protest for dignity's sake. "How...how much did you hear?"

"All of it~ You're so gooood," Dick crooned, rocking him from side to side in emphasis.

Damian's response was interrupted by Tim's voice asking from his own balcony, "Is that it, or is there more?"

Damian stiffened in Dick's arms.

"Way to go, brat!" Jason shouted cheerfully from a different balcony.

Applause, a whoop, and a "Nice job, Wayne," was the feedback from the direction of Cassandra's room, where Barbara and Stephanie were also staying the night.

"That was very nice, Damian," Bruce called from his own balcony, and "Quite splendid," Alfred commented from his.

Damian was squirming in earnest now. "That was a PRIVATE PERFORMANCE!" he shouted. "You're all supposed to be asleep!"

"You play loud," Tim pointed out.

"It's called projection! All of you GO TO BED! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"This morning still counts as my birthday," Dick called, "so stop torturing the baby, okay, guys?"

"For the last time, I AM NOT AN INFANT, GRAYSON!"


	11. Batfam Bingo 2019: Cass Cain

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: Cass Cain / Loss of Sight (rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

A/N: "Cass Cain" is on my own bingo card. "Loss of Sight" was a prompt I found on someone else's card that helped me get the idea for this vignette (I realized too late that I shouldn't have asked for anything in the "characters" category, since I don't get inspired just by a character's name; I need a _prompt_ ).

Takes place pre-Flashpoint, shortly after Cass starts training with Barbara.

o.o.o

She had her guard down, not expecting to be subtly targeted during lunch with Barbara. She barely registers the odd taste in her spicy food, though the drowsiness she starts to feel is weird.

The next thing she knows, she's waking up gasping in the dark. She can tell that she's in a large moving vehicle, but she can't see a thing. She's tied up and gagged, and her legs are bound to something unyielding. She explores as best she can with her hands and the rest of her body, and soon discovers that there's another captive here with her. She manages to work her hands upward, and as soon as her fingers clasp with the other's, she knows from the shape and the grip that it's Barbara.

The rest of the journey is not long, and neither of them manages to free themselves before the van stops and the doors are thrown open. "Heh, ~, girls." There's an ugly tone in that voice, and an even uglier touch when she's grasped in preparation to be moved. Cass kicks hard as soon as she is able to. The retaliatory strike is preferable to that greedy, invasive touch.

She and Barbara are hauled around, yelled at, shoved. This is a very horrible thing that's happening to her. She can't understand the words they're shouting, especially in those harsh, garbled voices. She can't _see_. She is starting to panic, because if she can't see, she can't fight, not if she doesn't want to risk killing them. She can't judge with the precision she needs. With her eyes bound, she's crippled and as good as deaf. It's terrifying.

The gag is yanked from her mouth, and demands are made of her that she doesn't understand. _'Batman!'_ she wants to cry, _'Help!'_ but she isn't sure if this is one of the ways Batman is like Cain or is not. Better to be silent. It will be over eventually, maybe sooner if she doesn't flinch.

"~ hands off ~ girls, ~!"

Cass wants to sob in relief, because she knows that voice. Spoiler. Steph. She listens to her friend fight. Her heart jumps into her mouth when she hears Spoiler's pained cries, and she strains harder to escape her bonds.

Then there's more shouting, words with 'Bat,' thudding, grunting. Batman. Batman is here.

She finally gets her hands free, but before she can finish with her feet, they are released. She rips the blindfold from her face. As soon as she sees Batman and all the _"Worry protection-anger love worry"_ in his mouth and the set of his shoulders, she throws herself into his arms. "~ all right ~, Cass," he murmurs as he holds her and slowly strokes her hair. "~ all right. You're safe." _"I love you,"_ his arms around her and his cradling hold say. _"I love you very much and I was so worried about you, and I'm very relieved you're safe."_

Maybe she should be better, maybe she should still be able to fight without killing even when she can't see. But she can't do that yet because she forgot to tell Barbara and Batman that the last time she fought blindfolded was when she was still with Cain. Under today's blindfold, she was so alone and uncertain, and she was _scared_. She is very glad that Batman doesn't mind that she was scared.

He pulls back. _"Are you all right?"_ he asks with a tilt of his head.

She smiles. _"Now I am."_ She kisses the nose of his mask. _"Because you're here."_

He ruffles her hair. _"Little rascal."_

They help each other up and go to make sure the others are safe, too.


	12. Batfam Bingo 2019: Donna Troy

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: Donna Troy / First Time (rough draft)

A Teen Titans fanfic by Raberba girl

A/N: "Donna Troy" is on my own bingo card. "First Time" was a prompt I found on someone else's card that helped me get the idea for this vignette (I realized too late that I shouldn't have asked for anything in the "characters" category, since I don't get inspired just by a character's name; I need a _prompt_ ).

This is the very first Teen Titans team from the Silver Age comics (like, not the tone, but the lineup and chronology).

o.o.o

Dick, Wally, Garth, and Roy were watching a movie in the Teen Titans common room when Donna stepped into the entryway and announced, "Today, I become a woman. I have begun my monthly bleeding."

There was a shriek from Wally, groans from Dick and Roy, and a confused look from Garth, who asked, "You're injured?"

"TMI, Donna!" Roy cried.

Frowning at the theatrics, Donna continued, "The cloth I am using will not hold long enough for me to reach Wonder Woman for guidance."

"Uuuugghh...!"

"Instruct me on the usual practice of the women of your people during such times."

"We don't _know_ , Donna!" Wally shrieked. "We're _guys_! We don't _wanna_ know!"

"Uh, well...I kinda know," Dick confessed reluctantly, as squeamish as the others but also feeling sorry for Donna. It had to suck to get one's first period when far from the family she would have usually asked.

"What?! How do _you_ know?!"

"Batman teaches me boatloads of stuff, like how bodies work. Mostly so you can tell how someone died or figure out how to escape when you're tied up, but we talked about, uh, girl-bleeding, too."

"I think my brain broke a little bit trying to picture Batman talking about that," Roy said faintly.

"No, really, sometimes it's actually relevant when you're working cases," Dick explained. "And, like, one time there was this strip club that was a front for human trafficking. We were fighting, and this one bad guy punched me in the face, and my nose wouldn't stop bleeding so one of the strippers gave me something to stick in my nose and catch the blood. Batman didn't tell me it was a tampon 'til we were back in the cave."

"UUUUGGHH!"

"Not a used one! It was still in the packaging when she took it out of her locker! She was actually really nice."

Donna, focused inward, suddenly winced and interrupted, "Time grows short. I need your assistance, Dick."

"Okay... I mean, I know more about the body part of it than the tampons part, but I'll try."

That was how Robin ended up taking Wonder Girl to the closest drugstore and leading her to the feminine hygiene aisle. "Uuuhh," he said as he stared at the colorful and unexpectedly vast selection, "I don't actually know...what specific type you need."

"They are all too big to fit," Wonder Girl declared, plucking a package of pads off the shelf and tossing it in her hand.

"No, that's a _collection_ of them! There's a whole bunch of little ones inside, you don't stick that entire thing- Ew."

Wonder Girl frowned and peered at the packages until she found one with a transparent section that displayed the individually wrapped pieces packed inside. "Ah, I understand."

They still ended up asking for help from one of the women who worked in the store. As Wonder Girl was making use of her new purchase in the restroom, the store employee smiled and patted Robin's shoulder. "You're a good friend. My first time, my brother chased me around the house while waving my underpants, it was awful... Thank you for supporting her."

"How come there's _so many_ kinds?" Robin asked, still gazing in amazement at the colorful aisle.

"Are you sure you want to hear the answer to that?"

"Uhh...well, I guess not."


	13. Batfam Bingo 2019: Losing a Bet

***PLEASE READ THIS FIC ON AO3**

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: Losing a Bet (rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: No (Visible) Capes AU. Sixteen-year-old Dick Grayson, a disabled orphan living in a group home, loses a bet and has to ask out the hottest girl in school. Dick/Kori

A/N: **Warnings include but are not limited to internalized ableism and a character suffering a long-term injustice due to racism.**

 **Also, although I've researched group homes before for a different fic, it was difficult to find useful information on what daily life is like, so a lot of what's depicted here is just stuff I made up. Sorry for the inaccuracies.**

o.o.o

Dick thought he was going to throw up.

He stood in the noisy cafeteria, struggling to stay upright on his crutches when he felt so shaky, nervous sweat making his stupid giant glasses slide too far down his nose. He could still taste blood in his mouth from when, in his anxiety, he'd bitten his own tongue. With his luck, the blood was probably going to catch in his braces and look like bits of food (though the fact that he even had braces to begin with was bad enough).

 _'She's going to say no,'_ he told himself for the hundredth time. His eyes were fixed on Kori Anders, the most beautiful girl in school, sitting with her usual group. Though she was surrounded by other girls and some guys almost as beautiful and even more stylish than her, she didn't interact with them much, focused on her food and her earbuds. _'She's gong to say no, so you don't have to be worried about rejection, because it's GOING TO HAPPEN.'_

He took a deep breath. _'You'll go over there, ask her out, she'll say no, probably look at you like you're a worm who crawled out of a pile of crap (because you are, Grayson, let's face it), maybe say something super-hurtful and cutting, and you'll go back to your lunch and it'll be OVER, mission complete.'_ He sucked in a deep breath. _'Do it. Go. Quicker you do it, quicker it'll be over. Go. Grayson. GO.'_

He lurched forward on his crutches. Forced himself to take another step, and another. Heaved his clumsy way over to the table until all the other beautiful, rich, popular people were staring at him in disbelief and disgust for invading their territory with his ugly, pathetic, unworthy self.

Kori, however, hadn't noticed him yet. She had gone still, staring off into the distance, frowning hard as her lips mouthed something that didn't seem like song lyrics.

"Um. Hey." She didn't hear him. He had to lean far into her line of vision before she finally noticed him. She stared, like she didn't understand why this scrawny, crippled specimen in wrinkled, hand-me-down, charity bin clothes was addressing her. _'SPIT IT OUT. SHE'LL SAY NO AND THEN YOU CAN LEAVE.'_ "Hi, s-so, I was wondering, are you free this Saturday?" He smiled, just because he felt like he was dying and it made him feel better to smile.

The others all started gasping and whispering as Kori frowned and took the earbuds out. "What?"

 _'GRAYSON YOU FREAKING MORON.'_ "A date," he said, loudly, because he'd already dug his own grave, so why not lie down in it and put his idiocy on full display. _'Everybody, look at me. For your entertainment.'_ "With me. Do you want to go on a date with me?" Ball was in her court now. He steeled himself for pain and humiliation.

He'd half-expected the fury that now crossed her face, but he hadn't been expecting her to stand up and _loom_ threateningly over him. She was taller than him to begin with, and with the added bonus of her high-heeled shoes and mane of poofy, curly hair, she _dwarfed_ him. He backed away in alarm, nearly falling. "Why do you ask me to date of you?" she demanded, obviously furious.

He was horrified. He'd known he would offend her, but he hadn't meant to make her genuinely angry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just lost a bet, I'm sorry, I was supposed to come over here and ask you out so my friends would laugh at me when you tossed me out on my ass, so there, I asked you and it's done now, I'm gonna go back into the hole I crawled out of and die there, okay? I'm so sorry. Sorry to bother you. I'm sorry. I hope you have a really nice day after this."

He managed to get the crutches turned around and heave-swung out of there, his face burning. The Plastics behind him immediately burst into incredulous gossiping, but mercifully, it was drowned out by the cheering and applause from nearby tables, the sort usually given when a restaurant worker drops a stack of plates. Dick, still burning with embarrassment, grinned sheepishly and waved a little to acknowledge the crowd as he made his way back to his seat.

"Holy-!" His friends were cracking up, _alight_ with incredulity and laughter that he'd actually gone through with it and failed in such a spectacularly entertaining way.

"Yeah?" Dick grinned, "Well, now it's _your_ turn, Dean; and you'd better brace yourself, 'cause when I think of-" He saw their suddenly changed expressions, pale and shocked. He heard the clip-clop of swiftly approaching heeled shoes, but he didn't put it all together until a hand seized his hair, so close to the scalp that the yanking motion didn't even hurt. Dick, now helpless in his chair with his head held immobile and his neck arched back like a lamb about to be slaughtered, was at the mercy of a still angry Kori Anders. "Why do you ask me the date? Laugh at me? You die? Explain!" she demanded.

Dick, freaking out because the hottest girl in school was _touching him_ , had to address the ceiling because it was the only thing he could really see from this angle. "I- It was a joke. A really bad joke, and it's my fault, and I'm sorry." She obviously wasn't fluent in English, she might not have understood his panicky, colloquial explanation earlier. "I made a mistake. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

She shifted her grip to turn his head a little, forcing him to stare into her eyes. It was both terrifying and mesmerizing. "You say the bad joke to make mistake."

"Yup, that's right." He was shaking a little.

"Hmm." She stooped to look at him more closely. He stared back and shook a little harder, his mouth suddenly dry. Traumatic memories of being pinned down and hurt were clashing with the weird excitement of being made helpless in such a different context. The combination was making him sick again.

"You are...scared," she observed.

"Could you please let go of my hair? Please?"

She released him. He immediately braced his hands on the tabletop and curled in on himself, struggling to control his breathing. Then he forgot to breathe again when she set her warm palm on his back. "I give the date to you, Friday. After when school is over."

"Okay," he gasped, "okay. I'll meet you by the auditorium. After school. Friday."

"Okay." She removed her hand and clip-clopped away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Dick's friends exploded, and Dick himself buried his face in his hands, unable to believe that he'd _actually scored a date with Kori Anders_. He was going to get in so much trouble if he went through with this, but there was no way he _couldn't_.

o.o.o.o.o

 _'She's not going to show up,'_ Dick reminded himself, over and over.

He was sitting on a bench outside the auditorium after school on Friday. _'She's not going to show up. Just wait an hour, maybe two, then go home and you probably won't get in much trouble after all.'_

He was wearing his nicest outfit, which consisted of the only pair of jeans he owned with no holes in them and a pink button-down shirt that had still been in its factory packaging when it had arrived with the other clothing donations. His shoes had once been nice but were well-worn. He'd used a permanent marker to try to black out the scuff marks, but they had dried as purple patches instead. His crutches were propped beside him.

He pushed his glasses back up his nose for the millionth time. _'Either she'll have come to her senses by now, or it was a joke on me from the start. Either way, she's not coming, so don't get disappointed.'_ His pocket burned with the credit card he'd stolen. He'd give it back and pay back whatever he spent (eventually...), but he'd needed it for this date. The pittance he earned from job training wouldn't be enough to cover this (if it even happened, which was doubtful).

Dick shifted on the hard stone seat. He couldn't believe even this much had happened. He'd been enamored of Kori Anders ever since he'd first laid eyes on her when he was a freshman. He was a junior now, and she was a senior. She seemed even older than that, though, completely grown up. She never interacted with classmates like they were fellow kids, never got involved in extracurriculars; just showed up for classes, responded politely to anyone who addressed her (mostly just teachers and Plastics), then took off in her Corvette as soon as the dismissal bell rang.

Although rumors flew about all the people, including teachers, she'd allegedly slept with, she'd never dated anyone. Dick had never seen her on a guy's or girl's arm, never seen her so much as flirt. He'd asked her out solely from obligation, knowing he didn't have a chance, but now he wondered if he wouldn't have had a chance even if he'd been rich and handsome.

Here she was, walking briskly toward him. Dick's mouth dropped open, both in shock that she'd actually come and because she'd changed out of her (barely) school-appropriate outfit and was now dressed even sexier than usual. Her ample breasts were nearly bursting out of her top, miles of perfectly toned (and weirdly scarred in some places) bronze legs ended in stiletto heels, her makeup and nails were on fire... Dick felt incredibly underdressed.

Kori halted directly in front of him. "Let's go," she ordered.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, of course." Dick fumbled for his crutches, nearly died of embarrassment when he dropped one, and began the arduous process of lowering himself to retrieve it, his worse leg awkwardly stretched out.

Before he could reach it, Kori stooped to snatch it up, yanked Dick upright, and practically pushed the crutches into place. "Let's go," she said again. "Where is your car?"

"I-I don't have a car, I was g-gonna call a taxi," Dick stuttered.

She stared at him. " _Taxi_?"

He felt like he was shriveling under her incredulous look. _'What kind of man doesn't have a car suitable to take Venus to a date in?'_ Never mind that he was an almost penniless orphan who lived in a group home and was months away from his seventeenth birthday. "I'm so sorry. I don't have a car."

She rolled her eyes and marched away. He stood, feeling like crap, consoling himself with the silver lining that he hadn't stolen any money after all. He only realized that Kori had intended for him to follow her when she stopped, angrily marched back, scooped him into a bridal carry, and headed off again.

Dick clutched his crutches awkwardly, shocked at both the realization that she wasn't leaving him behind and also that she was _carrying him_. _In heels_.

Which was amazing but also humiliating. "Um," he said, squirming cautiously because the only thing worse than being held like this would be being dropped, "you can put me down, I'll walk, I just didn't realize you'd wanted me to follow you."

He finally convinced her to put him down. He did his best to keep up, but she still reached the Corvette first and then stood there, staring at him, as he heaved his way toward her. There were sweat stains on his shirt by now, more from anxiety than exertion, and he kind of wished the earth would open up and swallow him. "Sorry," he panted when he reached her. "I'm very sorry that I suck so much."

"...You are different," she finally remarked, then went around to get into the driver's seat. Dick was left to struggle into the passenger's side by himself, which was actually kind of a relief. He might be crippled and clumsy, but he _could_ do things himself, just not as well or as fast as other people did.

"Where to restaurant we go?" she asked as she started the car.

"Where would you like to eat?" he asked her.

She stared at him, and for the first time, it wasn't in a way that was speechless at how outrageously horrible he was. "We eat food _I_ want?"

"Yes," he said gratefully, glad that there was _some_ way he could make her happy. Even if it ended up costing, like, $70. "Whatever restaurant you want, that's where we'll go."

She grinned, and being _smiled at by Kori Anders_ took his breath away. She backed out of the parking space and drove enthusiastically.

She stopped the car at, of all things, a pizza place. She got out and strode into the building without waiting for Dick, who caught up with her as she was ordering "the BIG pizza, with all good things on top of it."

"Uh...so, like, a supreme?" the young lady at the register asked cautiously.

"All good things."

"Supreme is good," Dick said, setting the credit card on the counter. "What would you like to drink, Kori?"

"White wine."

There was a long pause as both Dick and the cashier gaped. "How about soda?" the girl finally suggested.

"White wine."

"They don't have wine here, Kori," Dick explained. Even if the restaurant did carry wine, they'd get in trouble for serving it, since Kori was underage.

Kori frowned. "No wine?"

"We have lemonade," the cashier offered.

"What is lemonade?"

 _'...She's an alien,'_ Dick thought blankly.

"You know what," the cashier said, reaching under the counter, "I'm just going to give you a cup, and you get whatever you want from the beverage dispenser."

Kori stared at the waxed paper cup she had been given. "The inside is empty."

"You fill it over there," Dick explained, pointing. He had to show her with his own cup. "This is lemonade," he pointed out.

"Oh - it is a _lemon_ drink," she realized, looking at the picture on the label.

"That's right," Dick said.

Kori filled the rest of her cup while Dick was filling his with Coke. She took a sip. Then she made a face, spit her mouthful of lemonade in the nearby trash can, and then dropped the whole drink in the trash. "Too sweet, VERY MUCH," she declared. She plucked Dick's cup out of his hand, sipped, then sighed and tossed it in the trash as well. " _Soda_ ," she declared contemptuously.

Dick turned and mouthed _'I am so sorry'_ at the cashier, who pointed to a different employee. The guy, who presumably was the one who'd be cleaning up the mess later, was death-glaring Dick and Kori. "We'll get that pizza to go," Dick called to the cashier, who nodded gratefully at the confirmation that they'd be leaving soon. "Do you just want water?" Dick asked Kori.

"No. The restaurants' water taste like plastic and metal. Bad."

"Yeah."

They waited a few more minutes until their pizza was ready. "How about we take it out to eat on that hill behind the building?" Dick suggested before any awkwardness arose from Kori thinking to eat inside.

"Yes." She whisked away with the pizza, leaving Dick scrambling to catch up.

Kori was already sitting on the grass, biting into two conjoined slices of pizza when Dick caught up. She chewed thoughtfully for a minute, then sighed and tossed the remainder back into the box. "Ryan lie. Pizza is _not_ 'best food ever.' " She lay back on the grass and closed her eyes. The bite of pizza Dick had taken fell out of his mouth as he stared at Kori's pinup pose.

She was stretched out with her arms over her head, back slightly arched, boobs raised, legs carelessly apart enough to reveal whatever was beneath her skirt to anyone at the right angle (Dick was not, and had enough self-control to not lean over and look). A moment later, she relaxed, lowering completely to the grass and crossing her legs, curling her arms under her head. Her eyes remained closed, face tilted upward. "Sun is so _good_ ," she murmured.

"Yeah," Dick said lamely, and took a bite of pizza.

It was quiet for a while. Then Kori turned on her side and actually snuggled into Dick's leg, and he nearly choked on what he was chewing. She was literally _hot_ , her body uncomfortably warm against his, but he didn't dare move and wouldn't have wanted to, anyway.

About twenty minutes passed as Kori napped and Dick ate half the pizza. He was leaning back on his hands, watching the clouds, when Kori finally stirred and lifted her head. Dick smiled tentatively. "Hi."

"Hello." She thoughtfully ran a hand down his pant leg, and he shivered despite the heat. "We go?"

"If you want."

He felt braver in the car, maybe because Kori seemed more relaxed now. Trying to strike up a conversation, he asked, "What is it that you listen to at lunch? With your earbuds. Is it music?"

"No music. I learn English."

"Ohh, I see. What's your native language?"

"Native language?"

"The one you grew up speaking."

Kori spoke a string a syllables that sounded like complete gibberish to Dick, which surprised him. He'd grown up in a multilingual environment and could usually at least identify what language was being spoken around him, even if he didn't know the meaning.

"Huh. Well, English isn't my first language, either," Dick confessed. "I mean, it sort of was, since Mom was American, but Dad wasn't, and neither were most of the other circus folk. My family spoke this total mix of English, Italian, and Romani, and more got thrown in every time we left the trailer. But then we came to the States and Mom and Dad died, and I got sent to ju-"

His ethnicity and unusual childhood were one thing, but he probably shouldn't admit to having once been in jail...even though it hadn't been his fault that Gotham social services used freaking _prison_ for emergency placements if all foster homes were full. "-uh, to foster care. And, like, it turned out I wasn't totally fluent in English after all, and all the slang I knew was outdated, and...and it sucked." He looked out the window, his eyes stinging. He hadn't meant to ramble, and he definitely hadn't meant for a commiserating anecdote to turn into something depressing.

After a very long pause, when he'd gotten himself back under control, he dared to glance at Kori, and was startled to find her looking straight at him. He hastily looked away again, then darted a glance back. Her eyes were once more on the road.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I had to learn proper English, too, and you learn fast when you're surrounded by people constantly speaking it. You'll...you'll get it," he finished, feeling ridiculous for saying something encouraging to someone who clearly had everything else going for her.

"Parents are dead?" Kori finally asked.

"Yeah."

"You love them? They love you?"

"Y...Yes. Very much."

"Hmm..."

"What about your parents?" he asked. "Do you get along well with them, or no?"

"I love them," she declared, "but they are _difficult_. I am angry."

"That sucks."

Kori pulled the car aside into a hotel parking lot, to Dick's surprise. As she parked, his mind whirled, trying to figure out if this meant what it seemed to and panicking a bit at how fancy it seemed. He didn't know how he was going to afford even just a meal at a place like this, much less a room, if a better meal than pizza was what Kori had in mind.

This time, when Kori noticed him lagging behind, she came back for him. He declined her offer to carry him, and she watched in fascination as he struggled to heave himself along at a pace that wouldn't hold her back. Even so, she remarked, "You are slow."

"Yeah," he said shortly. "Broke my legs when I was a kid." He still desperately shied away from the memories of being held down by bigger boys with cruel smiles, screaming in agony for help from guards who took their time coming, subjected to a racist doctor who let his legs heal wrong and gave him nothing effective for the pain. The Wayne Foundation group home he'd eventually been transferred to was safer, friendlier, and even provided him with medication for the chronic pain, but Dick's paperwork from juvie listed his condition as a congenital one, and Dick had never seen the point in contesting the claim. "Sorry."

They finally reached the front desk. Dick was so distracted by the sparkling interior, even fancier than he'd expected, that he almost missed how the receptionist warmly greeted Kori by name. "And will you be reserving your usual suite, Ms. Anders?"

"Yes." Both women looked expectantly at Dick, who finally jolted in realization and fumbled out his stolen credit card, putting it on the counter. He didn't know whether to pray Mr. Devin had discovered the theft by now and canceled the card, or for the opposite. Whatever happened in a hotel room with Kori Anders, would it be worth the truckloads of trouble he'd be in by tomorrow? Probably not, or at least future him would be cursing present him, but right this moment, a hotel room with Kori felt worth any price.

The card went through. The receptionist handed it back to Dick with the tips of her fingers, her smile tight. "Enjoy your stay, Mr...Torres," she said, eyeing his crutches and charity bin clothes.

"Thanks."

Kori headed toward the elevators, and Dick followed her. They were quiet until they reached the penthouse suite (oh God, he'd probably be aged out of the system before he finished paying Mr. Devin back for this), where Kori shut the door and promptly started peeling off her tiny dress as she strode farther inside. Dick made desperate whimpering sounds, his eyes glued to her.

[*censored because FFN is stupid*]

Dick felt like he'd just been punched. "Y- Why-" He swallowed hard and dug his palms into the bed, trying to heave himself away. "You're- You're only sleeping with me because you think I'm _paying_ you?"

She frowned dangerously and set a hand on his sternum so hard that he thumped down, pinned to the bed. He didn't even have it in him to struggle. "You no pay? You think I sex to you and _no pay_? I give you this body _free_?"

"No," he said dully, "I didn't think that." He'd known, in the back of his mind, that something was wrong, that girls like Kori Anders didn't willingly sleep with trash like him.

"I tell that Scott Lauder," she snarled, "I tell that Cole Jacobs, I do not sex to them for _free_." Scott and Cole, both sports players, had missed weeks of school earlier in the year for injuries allegedly sustained in a skiing accident and on a hunting trip, respectively.

Kori let go, and Dick lay limply where he'd been released. "I thought you are different," she said, now looking hurt.

"I..." Dick slowly sat up. "I didn't ask for this. All I asked for was a _date_. _You_ were the one who brought me to a hotel and took all your clothes off. Do you not know what a fucking high school date is?"

They stared at each other.

"Do you not...know what a date is?" Dick murmured again, this time as a genuine question.

Kori now looked a little uncertain. "We go to the restaurant, we eat food and wine. Sometimes opera or party then to hotel, sometimes only hotel. I give sex to men, men give money to me, I give money to Kom and Mr. Rails. Date is over, I go to bed."

Dick's flesh was starting to creep. "Who's Kom?"

"My sister. She do find men for me."

"Do you _want_ to have sex with those men?"

Her face twisted in disgust. " _No_."

Dick was growing more and more horrified, but it was hard to focus when Kori Anders was still sitting naked in front of him. "Could you...maybe please put a robe on?"

She gave him a strange look. "You do not want sex and naked?"

"What I want doesn't matter, we need to talk about something important."

She gave him a wide-eyed look, then went to put a bathrobe on. She came back to sit close to him on the bed. "Talk?"

"Kori, listen to me. NO ONE should ever make you have sex if you don't want to. Is Kom or Mr. Rails making you sleep with those men?"

"My family need money. Father does not like the jobs, Kom is oldest, but I am younger so I must bring money."

"Kori, that's _wrong_. It's your _parents'_ job to make money and provide for _you_. I know you're technically eighteen, but this has been going on for at least two years, right?" She had been sexy and aloof ever since Dick had first seen her his first week of high school, there had never been any change in her behavior or reputation. "Maybe longer? That's- it's child abuse, what they're making you do. Sex should be something you do for _yourself_. I- Oh my God." How could _Kori_ , of all people, be caught up in something like this?

"If I do not give sex," she said slowly, "how do I bring money? Father say no, Mother say no, Kom say no, Ryan is too young. If we give no money, Mr. Rails tell police, we go to jail. We are the illegal aliens. If Mr. Rails do not protect us, we go to jail."

What a mess. "Look, Kori, if anyone in your family has to sacrifice themself to protect the others, it shouldn't be the youngest daughter. Are your parents doing anything to earn money?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"They are the king and the queen. King and queen do not work like the _slave_."

"...So, if they're a king and queen," Dick said, playing along with the royalty thing, "that makes you a princess. Is it okay to make a princess work like a slave?"

"No," Kori said angrily. "No! Why do only I be the slave, and not Kom? Why only I?"

"It's not fair."

"It's not fair! I am angry!" Kori stormed over to her little purse and dug her phone out of it. She stood with her feet apart and her free hand on her hip as she waited for the call to connect, looking every inch the princess she claimed to be. Then she imperiously started speaking in her foreign language, sounding angrier and angrier.

Dick re-fastened his pants and then lounged on the bed, sadly admiring his princess from afar and trying to figure out how to get the rest of her child-abusing family deported in a way that wouldn't mean she had to go with them.

[. . .]

o.o.o.o.o

[. . .] Kori was chatty as she drove. "There are the _beautiful_ fruit trees, Dick, look like rainbow and taste like _glory_."

"I'd love to see that."

"You have beautiful things in your home? Real home, with parents?"

He laughed. "I was born in a traveling circus, so the tents and trailers are my homeland." He told her stories of his childhood, and Kori was enthralled. He told her of flying, and she hummed in pleasure. "The flying is good, _very_ good."

When she finally pulled up in front of the group home, Dick didn't get out right away. They gazed into each other's eyes for a while, then she leaned over and kissed him.

They made out, stepping up the depth and pace when she climbed onto his lap. She'd actually reclined his seat, their hands roaming beneath each other's shirts, by the time someone insistently started knocking on the window. Dick fought his way through a cloud of red hair to look, and smiled sheepishly. "Hi, Ms. Lisa."

"Who is she?" Kori asked.

"She...helps run the group home."

"She is not happy," Kori observed.

"Nope."

Dick disentangled himself from Kori, opened the car door, looked down at his lap, decided there was no point in hiding the bulge there, then started to heave himself out of the car before remembering to look for his crutches.

"Dick, did you take Mr. Devin's credit card?"

"...Yes."

"How much did you spend?"

"...A lot."

"You need to get inside and wait in the office."

"Yes, ma'am."

Kori was frowning as she looked back and forth between her cowed boyfriend (they had decided during the drive that they were now, indeed, in a relationship) and the angry woman. "You are danger, Dick?"

"No one's going to hurt me," Dick assured her. "I did something bad, so I'm in a little bit of trouble, but it's okay, I'll be safe. I'll just miss you a lot, that's all."

"I will see you tomorrow," she instructed, pulling him close to kiss him.

"Yeah. See you soon." Dick watched her get back in the driver's seat and pull away, then, under Ms. Lisa's stern glare, he trekked into the office. She demanded the credit card, and he gave it to her. He waited for several minutes, then Mr. Sykes, the manager, came in and sat down across from him. "Dick."

Dick picked at a spot on his jeans and said nothing.

"Hand over your phone. You're on red for a month."

Dick swallowed, but took his standard-issue flip phone out of his pocket and gave it up. He'd been expecting as much.

"Dick, why did you _do_ this?"

He shrugged. There was nothing he could say in his own defense - a beautiful woman had given him a chance, and he'd responded like a horny animal.

"Dick, look at me."

He considered refusing, but heck, why not. He deserved everything they threw at him (at least, everything they were legally allowed to. The Wayne Foundation people wouldn't withhold food or use mild torture on him like the people at juvie did).

"Dick, you understand we would be within our rights to have you arrested for theft?"

He swallowed. "Are you going to do that?"

"We're considering it," Sykes snapped. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Dick, I don't think you get it. We're here to _help_ you. We _want_ you to succeed, we don't _want_ you to suffer or go to jail, but this wasn't just adolescent mischief. Your placement at this facility might be in jeopardy."

Dick pressed his body harder into the chair in an effort to make it stop trembling.

"Where have you been all this time?"

"That's not your business," Dick said in a low voice.

"It very much _is_ our business. While you are in our care-"

"I'm almost an adult! I can make my own choices!"

"You are still two years away from legal adulthood and we have a responsibility-"

"You're not my parents! You're here to feed me and clothe me and put a roof over my head, but you run this place like a _prison_ , _normal_ kids don't have to live like this, get grilled every time they-"

Sykes abruptly stood up and thundered, "I am _this_ close to calling the police, Grayson. Go to the Red Room."

Dick grabbed his crutches and lurched out of the office, storming down the gauntlet of wide-eyed or grinning boys and grim-faced workers.

He paused outside the Red Room, the solitary bedroom at the front of the hall reserved for those who were at the most extreme level of discipline. It was completely empty except for a sleeping bag and small pillow; the window was made of reinforced glass, the door had heavy locks and an observation window. The walls were padded. Dick slowly forced himself inside.

"Lie down," Sykes ordered, following him inside and flanked by two assistants.

"Why?" Dick asked in alarm, having sudden flashbacks to juvie. None of the WF people had ever outright abused a boy that he'd seen, even the ones who'd been violent and screaming profanities. However, none of them had ever ordered a boy to get on the floor, either; restraints were simply performed when necessary, without an extra production being made of it.

"So you won't fall when we confiscate your crutches," Sykes snapped.

Dick's hands on the instruments immediately tightened. "I need my crutches."

"Not to sleep, which is the only thing you'll be doing in here for the next eight hours. _Lie down_."

Dick hesitated. He _really_ didn't want to get on the floor while the adults were still in the room, but his back and hips were aching dully...he was late taking his meds. Deciding to risk it, he braced his feet, which sent sharper pain up into his hips, and started to relinquish his crutches.

The full weight of his body sent pain shooting through him, and he nearly screamed when his legs buckled and he started to topple. One of the assistants caught him and lowered him the rest of the way to the floor.

"I'll be back in the morning," Sykes said. "The way this plays out will depend on your attitude, Grayson, so I suggest you start working on your apologies."

They left the room and locked him in, without even mentioning his pain meds. Dick, still in the clothes he'd worn to school and the date, hauled himself to the sleeping bag mostly with his arms and gingerly worked his way inside. He lay facing away from the door, forcing his body as still as he could make it so that anyone watching through the observation window and cameras hopefully wouldn't be able to tell he was crying.

Between the dim safety lights, the discomfort of lying on the floor, the hourly checkups, his buzzing thoughts, and the way the pain in his body eventually started to flare, Dick barely got any sleep. He was lying in a daze at what, judging by the number of checkups, had to be past midnight, when there was a sudden commotion outside. Dick put his glasses on and sat up, facing the door. There was a lot of shouting and lights coming on. Had burglars broken in?

He was shocked to suddenly see Kori's face in the observation window. They stared at each other for a minute, then the doorknob rattled. When it didn't budge, Kori turned away and there was more shouting. Dick struggled out of the sleeping bag and tried to stand, but it was too agonizing. He lay on the floor, helpless as a beached mermaid.

He jumped when the door burst open. Kori, who'd apparently kicked it in, lowered her leg. She was wearing combat boots and short shorts, and a top that covered most of her boobs but was too small. She marched to Dick and picked him up in her arms. "They're just going to send us to jail," he said miserably.

"No," she snarled, her voice fierce. "Father go to jail, Mother go to jail, Kom go to jail, I run. Dick does not go to jail, I won't let it." She was carrying him out to her car, ignoring all the adults ordering her to stop and harshly shouldering them aside when they got in her way. Dick shrieked in pain when one shove jerked his legs.

"Hurt you?!"

"My meds," he gasped, his arms tightening a little around her shoulders. "I didn't take my meds, so my legs hurt..." _'And my hips, and my back, and basically almost everything below my ribcage...'_ He could see red and blue lights flashing at the top of the street. "It's the police, Kori, we have to go!"

She practically threw him into her car and then rushed to get to the driver's seat.

As she drove, definitely over the speed limit, Dick buried his face in his hands and tried not to have a panic attack. He failed, because he knew how this would end: they'd be caught and sent to separate juvenile detention centers. He was going back to juvie, and this time because he deserved it, so there'd be no hope of escape. Back to the cold, bitter guards and the cruel older boys, the hazing and bullying and unfair punishments, the cold and loneliness and pain, this time he was _going in_ crippled and he didn't have a chance, he didn't have a chance, this time they'd kill him...

"Dick, you are sick?!"

He tried to answer, but couldn't even get his voice to work. He couldn't breathe.

"Dick!"

The car stopped. He thought maybe the police had caught up to them, but then there was some jostling in the open air, and he realized he was being carried again. He lost a little bit of time after that, because the next thing he registered anything other than his painfully too-fast heartbeat and desperate struggle to breathe, he was somewhere else.

They were sitting under a bridge, Kori holding him in her lap and sobbing into his hair. Dick could feel himself trembling. The police were nowhere in sight, but neither was the car, or his crutches.

"Help," Kori whimpered, her arms around him tightening. "Help..."

"It'll be okay, Kori," he croaked, because there was nothing else to say.

"Dick?"

"Hi. Sorry."

Kori cupped his face and covered him with relieved kisses.

"I'm okay...where are we, Kori?"

"I ran away."

"Yeah..."

There was the sound of an approaching car. Dick stared as it passed, because it was a limo, but before it had cleared the bridge, it eased to a stop. A man in a nice suit got out and approached. Kori set Dick aside and stood up, her stance defensive and her hands curled into fists.

"You folks need any help?" the man asked.

"No," Dick said quickly, at the same time Kori stated matter-of-factly, "Yes."

The man looked down. "Can you stand, son?"

"No. And I'm not your son."

"Fair enough. You need a lift to the hospital?"

"No."

"Police chase us," Kori explained.

"Kori!"

"Hmm. Well, do you have any parents or guardians I could call?"

"No."

"Parents go to jail, because they make me give sex to men for money."

"She's not for sale anymore," Dick snarled, in case the man got any ideas. (He looked familiar, but Dick couldn't immediately place him and was too wound up to think.) "To you or _anyone_."

"Easy, chum," the man said gently. "I just want to help. If you have nowhere else to go, I could give you a meal and a roof over your head while we figure out plans."

Dick was about to refuse, when a child's voice called, "Are you adopting them, Dad?"

"I don't adopt every stray I find, Jay," the man called back.

Two little boys were peering curiously over the roof of the limo, probably standing on the seat in order to reach. The uniformed driver was patiently standing at attention by the nearer back door.

Dick still wasn't happy about getting in a stranger's car, but he and Kori were out of options, and a father of young children was probably safe. Dick let himself be picked up by the man, who was kind of huge and carried him effortlessly.

"Who are they, Bruce?" the smaller boy asked as they approached.

"I don't know who the young lady is, but if I'm not mistaken, the gentleman here is Richard Grayson."

"He is Dick," Kori corrected.

Dick stiffened, suddenly recognizing the man. "You're...you're Bruce Wayne?!"

"The one and only."

Dick swore silently at being caught by, of all people, the benefactor of his group home, then yelped in pain when his legs brushed a little too hard against the door frame as Bruce leaned to set him on the seat.

The children scrambled inside and continued staring. Dick gritted his teeth as he dragged himself into a proper sitting position. Bruce helped Kori into the limo, then climbed in himself; the driver shut the door after them and went around to get behind the wheel.

"You don't look so good. Are you sick?" the older child asked.

"Do you have any aspirin?" Dick asked tightly.

Bruce frowned, looking troubled. "Are you sure? Are there any other medications you take?"

"Yeah, but I missed my evening dose and my legs hurt."

Bruce opened a compartment and produced some over-the-counter pain reliever and a bottle of water. Everyone watched Dick swallow the pills. "You should eat food with those," the older boy said, handing over a couple of snack bars.

"Thanks."

"These are my sons, Jason and Tim," Bruce introduced as more snacks were handed around to Kori, the children, and himself. The boys looked to be about eleven and eight years old, respectively. "And the driver is Alfred. We were just coming home from a party when we saw you."

Dick stared at the floor, having nothing to say.

"I am Kori, he is Dick. I love him."

Dick's face flooded with heat. He didn't know how to take the declaration, but did his best to look at her and say shyly, "I love you, too, Kori."

"Aww, that is so sweet," Tim said in a dutiful sort of way that made Bruce chuckle and Jason shake his head.

"And I love my boys," Bruce declared, wrapping his arms around the kids. Jason resisted but made more of a vocal fuss than a physical one. Tim grinned hugely, looking like he wasn't sure how to react to a hug but definitely liked it.

Dick got more and more drowsy as the pain medication started kicking in and his hips and back stopped bothering him as much. He eventually leaned his head on Kori's shoulder, and before he knew it, his head was in her lap and she was stroking his hair. Apparently he fell asleep completely, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking in the car's interior lights.

He wasn't the only one who'd fallen asleep. Bruce held Tim's limp body in one arm and used the other to support and guide a grumpy, groggy Jason. Kori carried Dick, and Alfred unlocked the door for them all.

It was a vast house. Their footsteps echoed as they made their way to an elevator. Bruce insisted on sending Kori up first, and Alfred went with her and Dick to show them to a guest room. "I will return momentarily with some crutches for you, Mr. Grayson, and some suitable clothes for you both."

"Thank you..."

Dick lay on the bed, listening to Kori shower in the attached bathroom. He straightened up in alarm when Bruce came in. "I just put the boys to bed. Did you and Kori want separate rooms, or...?"

"Whatever she wants. I'm just...I don't know what I'm doing." He rested his face in his hand.

Bruce carefully sat on the bed. "Dick, I- Hm. I do keep an eye on the places I contribute to, you know, and...well, I know you ran away. and that you used some money that didn't belong to you."

Dick drew in a panicked breath, but before he could speak, Bruce said quickly, "Now, Dick, I certainly don't want to see you arrested, and I promise to do whatever I can to help you. But we do have some things to straighten out here."

"I don't want to go to jail again," Dick whispered. "That's..." He admitted something he'd never told an adult before. "That's where...they did this to me." He gestured at his legs.

Bruce's eyes grew razor-sharp in a way Dick was startled to see from the notorious flaky playboy. "I thought- Hm. May I see?"

"Um...yeah." Dick watched nervously as the man folded up his pant legs and cradled first one calf, then the other, his big hands very gentle.

"When was the last time these were X-rayed?"

"Um...when I was, like, twelve, I think."

"Who was your doctor?"

Dick told him, and was startled again when the man swore in a mutter. Kori, standing in the bathroom doorway in a robe with her hair caught up in a towel turban, watched curiously.

"Dick," Bruce finally said, setting down the leg he was holding and starting to roll the pants back down before Dick took over, "we'll talk about this more in the morning. For now, you and Kori get some rest, all right? And, I know it's hypocritical of me, but I'm already fudging lines a bit just to let you stay here. Do me a favor and take it easy on any hanky-panky? Particularly because of the age difference."

Dick and Kori were only two years apart, which meant it was unlikely a court would find Kori guilty of statutory rape, but both teens were in enough trouble as it was and didn't need any complications. "Um. It might be...easier with separate rooms..." Dick looked at Kori a little apprehensively. "Are you okay with me sleeping in a different room than yours?"

She shrugged and said simply, "This house is good."

"Right, then," Bruce said, brisk now as he stood up. "Whichever of you wants to switch, let's get you settled."

Dick was exhausted, but it still took him a while to fall asleep. His mind churned with both worry and relief. Whatever happened in the coming weeks, at least he knew that this time, he wouldn't have to face it alone.

o.o.o.o.o

Over a year later, Dick was still at Wayne Manor, now as an officially adopted son of Bruce Wayne. On one particular morning, he gradually awakened to gentle, pleasant sensations, and eventually realized that it was because his fiancée was lying beside him, playing with his hair as she paged through a fashion magazine. "Kori!" They smiled at each other and shared a kiss. "Are you staying over the whole weekend?" he asked.

"Yes, Jason wants us all to go to the Knights game." Kori had her own apartment in town, having been employed and sponsored by Wayne Enterprises so that she could live and work in the country legally. With the help of the language tutor Bruce had hired, Kori's fluency in English had grown in leaps and bounds, and by now it was only unfamiliar idioms and some kinds of figurative language she still had trouble with.

"Awesome. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Okay. Let me take a quick shower and then we can go down together."

After surgery and months of physical therapy and healing, Dick still couldn't get over the fact that he could _walk_ now. It was a beautiful, glorious feeling to be able to walk unaided. Dick still cried about it a little sometimes when he thought of how much Bruce had done for him, how much potential his future held, and also how much had been stolen from him by the cruelty of his old tormentors and doctors.

The surgery wasn't the only thing, either. With contact lenses, much more discreet orthodontic devices, an unlimited budget for clothes and toiletries, and a butler who had much more fashion sense than his charges did, Dick was quite surprised to discover that he was apparently very handsome. He was no longer the only one who got dirty looks for being on the arm of a gorgeous person; people sometimes glared at Kori, too, or at both of them for the sheer unfairness of it. Ladies at high society gatherings paid much more attention to Dick than to his siblings, and he was turning just as many heads at school.

It was weird. _Really_ weird, and in some ways, Dick liked the attention, but in others, it made him resentful that he had to get adopted and 'fixed' by a rich guy before most people bothered to find out who he truly was and accept him.

In any case, his life was very, very good now, and it made him laugh to think he'd gotten a loving, gorgeous fiancée, a wonderful family, and a mansion to live in simply because he'd once lost a bet.


	14. Batfam Bingo 2019: Crack Fic

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: Crack Fic (rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: Why Raberba girl has spent the past two years reading Batman comics.

A/N: I am mentally picturing most of the kids as about the size of four-year-olds, and the younger ones as the size of two-year-olds.

Again, this square is not actually on my card, I just saw it on someone else's and came up with an idea for it. X'D

o.o.o

Once upon a time, there was a man named Bruce Wayne who was very sad because he'd lost his parents.

One day, Bruce was walking in the woods around his home. He came across a flock of owls chasing a small creature through the trees. Bruce drove off the birds and then looked down at the creature he had rescued.

It was _tiny_. "Oh my goodness," he said, picking up the creature to get a better look, "you are the most precious thing I have ever seen in my life."

"Those Owls were scary," the creature sniffled. "Thank you for saving me. I miss my mama and papa."

"And where are your mama and papa, little one?"

"They are dead."

"That is terrible. Who is taking care of you now?"

"Nobody."

"Well, that won't do at all," Bruce said.

Still carrying the creature in his arms, he brought it home to show his butler, Alfred. "Alfred!" Bruce called, setting the creature down on the kitchen counter, "Come look at this delightful thing I have found!"

Alfred entered and put on his spectacles so as to inspect the thing his master had brought. "Upon my word, I believe it is a Small Child."

"My name is Dick," the Small Child chirped. "I'm hungry!"

"Alfred, we must feed him at once. What do Small Children eat?"

"The same things that Adults do, I believe."

This turned out to be true, though Dick seemed to like the cookies better than the sandwiches. Bruce and Alfred watched avidly until their new addition to the household had sated himself, and both were quite charmed when Dick yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "Are you sleepy, chum?" Bruce asked.

"Nope, not a bit," Dick replied, but three minutes later, he was curled up fast asleep in Bruce's lap. "Alfred," Bruce said, "I love him."

"Very good, sir. I will prepare a room, and then you may put him to bed."

In the days afterward, Bruce found that he was not as sad as usual. In fact, he had much less time to even remember that he was sad, because he was kept so busy caring for his new Small Child. "Dick, I have been doing research, and the books say that children's sugar intake ought to be limited, and that the bulk of your diet must be healthy and nutritionally balanced."

"BRUCE WE'RE OUT OF COOKIES _AND_ CAKE! TELL ALFRED TO MAKE SOME MORE!"

"Dick, come down from the chandelier, I don't think what you're doing is very safe."

For all the trouble Dick caused, Bruce treasured his Small Child, caring for and playing with Dick every day. He also became more alert to other people's Children whenever he went into town. "Bruce! Bruce!" Dick said, tugging on Bruce's pant leg while they were visiting the library, "Look, she's pretty!"

Bruce looked where his son was pointing, and saw a Small Child with red hair reading a book. "I see," he said, very interested.

Dick ran over to the other child. "Hi! My name is Dick! I like your hair."

"Hello," the girl said politely.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Barbara."

"Barbara," Bruce said, "would you like to come home with me and be my daughter?"

"No."

"No?! Why not?"

"I already have a parent."

"Oh," Bruce said in disappointment.

"Bruce," said a voice, and Bruce turned around to find his friend Jim approaching, "you cannot take Children who do not belong to you unless they don't belong to anyone else. Barbara is already mine."

"Oh, I see."

"Do you want a cookie?" Dick asked, offering one to Barbara.

"Dick, where did you get that?" Bruce asked, because he thought he and Alfred had hidden the cookies.

"I found it and sneaked it into my pocket when you weren't looking."

Bruce realized he would need to find a better hiding place for the cookies.

"Bruce," Jim said, "you cannot take other people's Children to keep, but you may borrow them to play with your own Children. Perhaps we could arrange play dates for Barbara and Dick."

"Yes, I think Dick would like that, and so would I."

Bruce thought his life could not get any happier. Then, one night, he returned to his car and found a tiny creature busily working to remove the last of the vehicle's tires. "Oh my goodness gracious, it is a Small Child!"

"Buzz off, old man," the Child snarled.

Bruce was rather taken aback, because neither Dick nor Barbara had never been so rude and hostile. However, this little boy was still just as adorable even though he struggled greatly when Bruce picked him up.

"Lemme go!"

"Now, just wait a minute. Tell me why you were stealing my tires, little boy."

"I was going to sell them so I can buy food, because I'm SO HUNGRY!"

"Well, that is a very easy problem to fix," Bruce said, and bought a meal for the little boy.

"No! I can't pay you back!"

"You don't have to pay me back. People should feed small and cute things for free when they have no parents to feed them."

The little boy growled at him, but was so hungry he started to eat.

"What is your name?" Bruce asked.

"Not gonna tell ya."

"That is all right, I can give you a name. I shall name you Thomas."

"NO! My name's Jason!"

"Oh. Well, that is a nice name, too, even though it is not as good as Thomas. What about Martha, would you like that to be your name instead?"

"NO! MY NAME'S JASON!"

"Yes, yes, all right. I will take you home and care for you and love you, Jason."

"No!"

Despite the Child's protests, Bruce took him home. As soon as the door of the Manor opened, Jason ran to hide behind a sofa.

"What was that?" Dick asked in surprise.

"That was a Child I found to be your little brother, Dick."

"Really? Yay!" Dick went to climb onto the sofa to get a better look at his new brother.

"That Child is very different from the first one," Alfred observed.

"Yes, I think he has been abused. We must be very gentle and kind to him, Alfred."

"Certainly, sir."

It took a few days for Jason to be persuaded that his new home was safe. Though still skittish, he began to creep out of hiding to play games with Dick, and often watched Bruce or Alfred with great interest. "Whatcha doin'?" Jason asked one day when he came upon Bruce in the library.

"I am reading a book."

"What book?"

"This is called _Oliver Twist_. I like it because it is a story about a Child who is eventually adopted."

"Oh. Well, I think you should read this instead," Jason said, holding up a book by Jane Austen.

"But I am not finished with _Oliver Twist_."

"So? Put a bookmark in Oliver and read this one instead!"

Bruce sighed, but did as his Child wished.

After a minute, Jason cried, "No, dummy, read it _out loud_! So I can hear the story!"

"Oh." Now the request made more sense. "Very well. Would you like to sit in my lap?"

"No."

"That is all right, I will read to you anyway." Bruce cleared his throat and started again from the beginning, this time out loud. Although Jason did not sit in his lap, the boy soon climbed up to lean on Bruce's back and shoulders as he listened, and that was just as good.

Bruce was happy now, living in his grand old house with his fatherly butler and his two adorable children. His life was no longer easy, for Dick had far more energy than Bruce did and Jason still often argued and hid, but that only made the good times all the sweeter.

One afternoon, when Bruce was at work, the ground floor receptionist called and said, "Mr. Wayne, there is a little creature here whom I think you will be interested to take a look at."

"Thank you, Lisa, I'll be right down," said Bruce.

When he reached the foyer, he stopped and broke into a delighted smile. "Well, hello, there."

The creature stood up. "Hello, Mr. Wayne, my name is Timothy. I have been watching you, and I noticed that you have an interest in Small Children. I am a Small Child, and I am very lonely and sad because I have no one to take care of me, so I was wondering if you would like to take me home to keep, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce picked up the little boy and said, "I would like that very much, Timothy."

Timothy's face lit up. "Really? Oh, that makes me very glad. I promise I will be a good boy."

"I'm sure you will, Timothy."

Bruce fed his new Child some treats and then took him to his office. He thought that Timothy would simply play until it was time to go home, but the boy climbed into his lap as Bruce sat at his desk and pointed at the left computer screen. "I know how to do that," he said.

"You know how to compare inspection reports to company guidelines?"

"Yes, I am very good at reports, and also coding and emails. And hacking, but only if you won't get mad. If you don't like hacking, then I am very bad at it."

"I'll tell you what, Timothy, why don't I set you up with a simulator and see if you can find any weakness in the Wayne Enterprises digital defenses."

By the end of the day, Timothy had found one serious weakness and four minor ones, and was working on coding patches. "Timothy," Bruce said, "it is five o'clock. Time to go home."

"But I haven't finished any of the patches yet."

"That's okay, Timothy. You found a stopgap measure for the worst one and made good progress on that patch. My IT department will be working on it in the meantime. But you are not an IT worker, you are a Small Child, and it is time for me to take you home and feed you."

"That's okay, Mr. Wayne, I'm not hungry."

Bruce was surprised. He had never before had a Child who was not hungry. "Well, maybe you can eat, anyway. And I told you, you may call me Bruce. You don't have to call me 'Mr. Wayne' anymore because I am your parent now."

"Okay, Mr. Bruce."

Bruce shut down his computer, picked up his briefcase, took Timothy by the hand, and went down to his car. He drove home and called his family together. "Who's that?" Jason screeched, looking displeased.

"This is your new brother, Timothy."

"Hi, Timmy!" Dick said. "Can I hug you?"

"Yes," Tim said, and was hugged.

"I don't _want_ another brother!" Jason protested.

Bruce was nonplussed. "Why not?"

"Because I don't like him!"

"But how could you not like him when he is so cute?"

" _I'm_ cute enough, you don't need another cute thing!"

"Jason is jealous," Dick explained. "He thinks you wanted a new Child because the ones you already had weren't good enough."

"Oh." Bruce had not thought of that. "Well, that's not true, Jason. I wanted a new Child because Children make me happy, and it seems the more Children I have, the happier I get."

"Oh." Jason grabbed Bruce's shirt and pulled until Bruce picked him up and hugged him. "I love you, Jaylad."

"Okay. I'm hungry."

Not long after that, Tim came in from playing and came into Bruce's study. "Dad, I found something that I think you will like. Her name is Stephanie."

Bruce turned away from his work and perked up. "You are right, Tim, I like her very much."

"How do you even know you like me when we only just met?" the little girl protested.

"You are clearly a Small Child. That is good enough."

"Oh. Want to see me do a trick?"

"Yes, I do."

Stephanie proceeded to turn a cartwheel. "Ta-da!"

"Very good." Bruce hugged both Children.

"May we keep her, Dad?" Tim asked. "Her Adults are not taking very good care of her."

"I certainly hope we can keep her, Tim."

A week later, Bruce took his growing family to a restaurant for lunch. When they brought their food out to the terrace, they saw a small creature moving among the tables that hadn't been cleared yet, collecting leftover food.

"Look, Bruce, it's another one," Barbara said as the Small Child hopped over the fence and hid in the bushes.

"I see her, Barbara."

"And it's a girl! Catch her, Bruce, you have too many boys," Stephanie insisted.

"No, you'll scare her," Jason objected. "Pretend you don't see her and leave food where she can reach it easy."

By the end of lunch, the new Child was sitting at the table with them and had her own plate. Everyone was debating what to call her, because for some reason, she did not speak. "We should call her Ninja."

"No, that's a cat name, not a girl name! We should name her Celeste."

"We could name her Martha," Bruce suggested.

"No, that's an old lady name!"

"We should name her Cassandra," Barbara said.

"Yeah! Like Jane Austen's sister," Jason agreed.

Since that was the only name more than one person agreed on, that was the one that stuck.

Cass came home with everyone just like a member of the family, because she was one now. As Bruce was tucking her into her new bed that night, he said, "Cass, you will never have to scrounge for food again."

The little girl nuzzled her face against Bruce's arm in a way that clearly meant, _"I feel safe with you."_

"I'm glad, because I want to love you and keep you safe."

Cass smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said the next morning at breakfast, as Jason and Stephanie fought over the shape of their pancakes and Cass climbed on the refrigerator and Tim fell asleep on his plate and Dick poured so much milk into his bowl that cereal fell out, "I think this is starting to become a problem."

"What is, Alfred?"

"The sheer number of your Children, sir. I highly suggest that you stop adopting new ones and focus your attention on the ones you already have."

"I don't look for Children on purpose, Alfred. They always come to me."

"Nevertheless, might I suggest that the next time a Child crosses your path, you turn it in to a shelter rather than taking it home yourself?"

"But what if it is exceptionally cute, Alfred, and I cannot resist?"

"Then you will telephone me at once, and I will talk some sense into you."

"Well...all right, Alfred," Bruce said, disappointed.

However, the next time Bruce found the opportunity to acquire a Child, it was not because he happened to find one crossing his path. It was because Wayne Enterprises installed a new vending machine in the employee break room, and when Bruce passed by it, his attention was caught at once. _Babymaker! Build Your Own Child!_ it proclaimed on the front.

Bruce stepped up to the screen and experimentally started following the instructions.

 _Welcome! Thank you for using Babymaker! Please submit a DNA sample._

Bruce pressed his fingertip to the blinking pad.

 _Please select a mate._

Bruce selected the first one presented, which was a picture of a beautiful woman that had the caption 'Talia al Ghul.'

 _Please select a gender for your Child._

Bruce selected 'Male' and then impatiently tapped through most of the default options for physical characteristics.

 _Please confirm choices. Insert money and press 'Confirm' when ready to finalize._

Since '$4.99' was blinking in large numbers at the bottom of the screen, Bruce fed a $5 bill into the vending machine and then tapped the 'Confirm' button.

 _Please wait while your Child is being generated._

Bruce paced around in a circle. Then the machine dinged, and he rushed to open the slot at the bottom, not even paying attention to the _'Congratulations on your new Child!'_ message or the receipt that popped out.

A tiny, light brown hand was gripping the edge of the chute, and another was groping uncertainly. Bruce grasped the searching hand and tenderly helped his new son out of the vending machine.

The little boy blinked in the bright lights of the break room. "Father?"

"Hello, son. My name is Bruce. It is very good to meet you."

"My name is Damian. Where is Mother?"

"Er-" Bruce looked at the screen, hoping for answers, but it had already gone back to its default display. He took the receipt and resolved to research the data later. "She is on vacation. Damian, you are my new Child, and I love you."

"As you should."

Excited, Bruce picked up Damian in one arm to cuddle him and used his free hand to eagerly tap at the screen again.

"What are you doing, Father?"

"Purchasing another Child."

"But you already have me!"

"Yes, but I would like another one. A girl, maybe, to be your little sister."

"She will be _younger_ than me," Damian insisted. "I am the _eldest_."

"Older than her, yes," Bruce said in distraction, feeding another $5 bill into the machine.

A little girl crawled out of the slot.

"Hello, darling. My name is Bruce, and I am your father."

"My name is Athanasia," the little girl announced, then took out a dagger and stabbed Bruce with it.

"Why did you do that?" Bruce asked in bewilderment, putting down Damian so he could press a hand over his bleeding wound.

"To test you. You failed. I am ashamed to have such an unworthy parent."

"Do not speak about Father that way!" Damian shouted, and attacked her with a tiny sword that he apparently came equipped with.

Bruce watched his new children fight, in too much pain to stop them. _'I have made a mistake,'_ he thought. He turned back to the vending machine and tapped at the screen again. _'I need a less violent Child. I will not go with the defaults this time.'_

There were many good-looking mates to choose from, but Bruce was starting to get light-headed from blood loss, so he finally just picked the one holding a handful of jewels, because there were pearls in the collection and he liked pearls. He fed another bill into the machine and then watched eagerly until a third child came crawling out. "Hello," he greeted her. "I am your new father."

"My name's Helena. Why are you bleeding, Daddy?" Helena asked.

"Because your sister stabbed me." Bruce looked around for the other children, and found both them screaming because Athanasia was pinning Damian and Damian was kicking Athanasia. "Children, stop fighting at once!"

Both of them ignored him. Bruce did not know what to do, but then he couldn't do anything at all because he fainted from loss of blood.

He woke up in an ambulance. "What happened?"

"You fainted, Mr. Wayne," said one of the EMTs. "Who was it that stabbed you?"

Bruce looked down at the foot of the gurney, where Damian, Athanasia, and Helena were all staring at him soulfully. "Nobody," he said.

"But someone had to have stabbed you, Mr. Wayne!"

"It was...a ninja."

"Oh dear, that's terrible."

Athanasia raised her head high and smiled. Damian pouted and pushed her. Helena crawled up the gurney and curled up at Bruce's side, and he put an arm around her. "I'm okay, sweetheart."

"Don't die, Daddy."

"I won't."

At the hospital, Bruce's injury was treated and he was established in a room to recover. He turned on the television for his new Children to watch. Damian and Helena were enthralled, but Athanasia looked bored, so Bruce started playing chess with her on his phone. She was very good at it.

Soon, Alfred came in with the older Children. "Dad!" Jason cried, running to hug him, "Did you get mugged?!"

"No, son. A ninja stabbed me, but don't worry, they're gone now."

"WHAT IS THAT?!" Dick shrieked, pointing at Damian with a giant smile. "IT'S TINY AND ADORABLE AND I LOVE IT!"

"Children," Bruce announced, determinedly ignoring Alfred's wrathful expression, "these are your new siblings, Damian, Athanasia, and Helena." Dick had already run to engulf both Damian and Helena in a bear hug.

"Father!" Damian cried, ignoring the hug, "You have told me a falsehood! _I_ was supposed to be the eldest!"

"Well, actually, Damian, my other Children are older than you, but don't worry, you are older than both Athanasia and Helena."

"So cuuuuuute," Dick crooned, "so cu~u~u~u~ _ute_!"

"Unhand me at once, cur!"

"My name is Dick, not Cur."

"Dad," Tim asked anxiously, peering over the edge of the bed, "do you like Damian and Athanasia and Helena more than me? It's okay if you do, I was just wondering so I know whether to go hide in the closet and cry or not."

"Tim," Bruce said, scooping him onto the bed with him, "I love you and all my other Children very, very much, none of you more or less than the others."

"You better not be lying," Jason said, climbing up to possessively put his arms around Bruce's neck.

Once all the Children had fallen asleep, most of them squeezed onto Bruce's bed with him, Alfred said in great disapproval, "Master Bruce, you promised to cease adopting Children, yet it has been less than a month and now you procure _three_ at once."

"There was a vending machine, Alfred. I couldn't resist."

"I shall see to it that the machine is removed at once."

Bruce pouted, but then looked down at his Children and felt cheered up by their adorable sleeping faces.

Some time later, Bruce was going about his business as Batman when another Batman stepped out of an alley. "I think I am in the wrong Gotham," the Other Batman said.

"What do you mean? There is only one Gotham," said Batman.

"On the contrary, there are many alternate universes," said Other Batman. "I must have wandered into this one by mistake."

"Tell me," Batman said, "if there is an alternate universe with an alternate version of me, does that mean that there is an alternate version of my Children in your world?"

"Why, yes; I have children, so I assume you do, too. I have an adopted son named Dick and a biological son named Bruce Jr., and I love them both very much."

"Good heavens! My world has a Dick, but it does not have a Bruce Jr. I suppose I have not met him yet."

"Perhaps. By the way, do you think I could come to your Batcave and arrange a way home from there?"

"Certainly." Batman led the way back to the Batmobile. As they approached, a Small Child popped out from behind it.

"Hello, Mr. Batman!" she said. "I fixed your car."

"What was wrong with my car, little girl?"

"It didn't have a gas tank."

"That's because it runs on solar power and electricity, which are better for the environment than gasoline is."

"Oh. Well, I added a gas tank, anyway."

"That was unnecessary, but very thoughtful. Tell me, little girl, what is your name?"

"My name is Harper!"

"And do you have Adults who take good care of you, Harper?"

"Nope!"

"I see. In that case, please get in the car, so that I may take you home and adopt you."

"Okay, but only if my little brother Cullen comes, too!"

Batman smiled in delight at the thought of acquiring an extra, second Child when he'd only thought there would be one. "Certainly. Tell me where he is so we can pick him up on the way home."

Once they reached the Manor, Bruce introduced his two new Children to his eight other ones. Alfred said nothing, but he was so angry that he started cleaning the kitchen cabinets and threw out all of Bruce's favorite coffee (but was careful to keep Tim's). Batman led Other Batman down to the cave and, after much research, was able to get him safely home.

Even though Other Batman was gone, Batman was still intrigued by the idea of alternate universes. He started tinkering until he found a way to go into another universe himself and come back with another person. His goal was to find a Bruce Jr. in a universe where the boy had no Adults to take care of him, and Batman was eventually successful, but only after he had passed through several other universes on the way. "Children," he announced when he returned home, looking around the cave at all the curious little faces, "these are your new brothers, Bruce Jr. and Rui, and your new sister, Carrie."

"K-Konnichi wa," Rui said nervously.

"There sure are a lot of you," Carrie commented.

"Alfred's gonna be mad," Stephanie said.

"Yes, but if none of us tell him, perhaps Carrie, Bruce Jr., and Rui will blend in with the crowd and he won't notice."

Alfred, however, noticed immediately at the next meal, when the horde of Children ran to claim plates and came up three short. "MASTER BRUCE."

"I'm not hungry," Bruce said quickly, breaking his plate in three pieces and setting one piece in front of Carrie, another in front of Bruce Jr., and the third in front of Rui. "I decided not to eat dinner, so I put my plate back into the cupboard. Don't worry, you did not miscount."

"I TOLD YOU, NO MORE CHILDREN."

"But they blend in!"

"THEY DO NOT. THIS MORNING, YOU HAD TEN CHILDREN (PLUS MISS GORDON), AND NOW YOU HAVE THIRTEEN."

"I think that maybe you are so old, you have forgotten how to count, Alfred."

"MASTER BRUCE, GO TO YOUR ROOM."

Bruce obeyed. He pouted for a while until Cassandra sneaked in through his window and cuddled with him, which cheered him up. Then Dick and Damian sneaked in with treats they had stolen from the pantry, then Jason with a stack of books to keep him entertained, and by the time half his children had joined him in Time Out, Bruce felt better.

By the time Bruce was allowed out of his room, Alfred had confiscated his multiverse equipment. Bruce tried to be good, but one day when he was walking to a café during his lunch break, he came across a Small Child who was trotting down the street unaccompanied. "Little boy, where are your parents?"

"They are missing. I have to find them."

"Oh dear. I will help you look." Bruce did not go back to his office, but instead spent the rest of the afternoon helping the Child look for his parents. When they finally found them, Bruce and the child, Duke, were dismayed to find that Duke's parents were very ill.

"Mom! Dad! It's me, Duke!"

But they only laughed Joker laughter. Duke was very sad, and Bruce felt awful for him. He paid for Mr. and Mrs. Thomas to be taken care of at the best hospital in the city, and then he said, "Duke, would you like to live in my house until they are better and can take care of you again?"

"I don't know, because you are a stranger and I shouldn't trust strangers."

"I might be a stranger, but I am also Batman."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I suppose it's all right."

Bruce took his new Child home.

"Master Bruce, you are grounded for one year."

"That seems excessive, Alfred."

"Do you know what else is excessive, Master Bruce?" Alfred said, and pointed at the pool, where fifteen children were splashing and playing.

Bruce was no longer allowed to leave the Manor, so he spent all his days playing with the Children and all his nights working in the Batcave. That was how he invented time travel. "Now, Children," he said to the three little ones he brought back from his experiments, "you must be very quiet and hide from my butler, Alfred, or he will be angry and punish me."

"I don't care if he punishes you," said Terry.

"DINOSAAAUUURRR!" Tina yelled, and ran to climb on it.

"But, Terry," Bruce said, "if he punishes me again, then I will not be able to find anymore siblings for you."

"I already have a perfectly good sibling!" Terry yelled, pointing at his little brother. Matt smiled brightly.

"Yes, but don't you want more?"

"No!"

"Hm."

Bruce fed his new Children protein bars and worked on disguises for them. When his other Children woke up from their naps and came down to the cave to play, they gathered around their new siblings curiously.

"They are not siblings, they are pets," Bruce explained. "This is Terry the bear, Matt the puppy, and Tina the raccoon."

"Those are kids in giant animal onesies," Jason pointed out.

"I like your kigurumi," Rui told the newcomers politely.

"Thanks!" Matt said, and Tina growled playfully while swiping her 'paws.'

"Father," Damian pouted, "I want _real_ pets, not more unwanted siblings in terrible disguises that won't fool Pennyworth for a moment."

"Maybe I should replace the felt with faux fur," Bruce mused.

When Alfred announced dinner and watched the family stream into the dining room, he noted the newcomers. Bruce watched apprehensively, but Alfred only paused for a long moment before saying calmly, "I see I have miscounted the plates again."

Bruce smiled in relief.

The next morning, Bruce went to fetch the mail, and spent a while talking to an unhappy lady who was waiting for him at the front gates. When he came back, he found Alfred waiting for him in the foyer with an extremely prim look on his face. "Master Bruce."

"...Yes, Alfred?"

"I have confiscated all your Children. They are all in my quarters, and you will not be allowed access to them _or_ to the cave until I have judged you cured of your Child hoarding."

"...Okay, Alfred," Bruce said meekly, and turned away, hurrying faster when Alfred frowned suspiciously.

Once safely in his room, Bruce untied his bathrobe and let the creature hidden inside climb out onto his bed. "I'm sorry, Alina," he apologized. "You won't be able to meet them as soon as I thought, but as soon as I trick Alfred into thinking I'm cured, I promise to introduce you to all your brothers and sisters, all right?"

"Yay!" his newest daughter cheered. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, Alina," Bruce said, and hugged her.

The End!

Final Child count: 18.5


	15. Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Soulmate: Colors

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: AU: Soulmate: Colors (rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Obligatory FFN author's note that spoils the story: **THIS IS PLATONIC. PLATONIC SOULMATES; NOTHING INAPPROPRIATE HAPPENS.**

o.o.o

Bruce, being extremely busy with crushing grief and then with training to be and becoming Gotham City's protector, never gave much thought to his lack of a soulmate. Having no True Love didn't impact his life at all, and despite what society and every fictional story ever written seemed to think, he felt no sense of regret or loss when every inch of his skin remained unblemished by fateful marks even after his twentieth birthday.

" _You_ are my soulmate," he once whispered to Gotham, perched on a gargoyle with his lover's sparkling lights arrayed far below him. Then Alfred patched in an alert about a kidnapped child, and Batman descended, focused once again on his Mission.

Things abruptly changed on that awful night at the circus, when Bruce reached out to young Dick Grayson and the boy whirled to clutch at him, sobbing into his chest. Even then, Bruce didn't notice until he was changing into civvies in the cave hours later, exhausted yet with his mind still whirling furiously with facts and theories about the Grayson case.

There was a bright blue handprint on his arm that had not been there before. Bruce stared at it for far too long before registering it as a soulmate mark. He had met his soulmate. He had _just met his soulmate tonight_ , he had a soulmate after all, he didn't have any _time_ or _interest_ in a soulmate, how-?! _Why the hell was the print so small?!_

Bruce sat there, shaking a little, because it was undoubtedly a child's handprint. There was no _fucking way_ Bruce would _ever_ have any inappropriate interest in a child, why the _hell_ did the universe or his body or _whatever_ was responsible think that someone so much younger than him was his perfect match?! Perhaps they had simply encountered each other in passing, and would form a real relationship once the child was older? Much, much, _much_ older?

Bruce did not look forward to the prospect, and tried to put it out of his mind. However, he couldn't sleep, tossing and turning as he mentally reviewed the past twelve hours or so, trying to figure out who it was of that size who had touched that part of his body.

It had to have been Dick Grayson, bracing himself on Batman's arm as he turned to sob into the first person who'd offered comfort after the worst moment of his young life. There was no one else.

An eight-year-old child was his soulmate, meaning that Bruce was apparently a pedophile.

He got out of bed and stood in front of the toilet. He never did throw up, but he wanted to. He was sick, sick to his stomach and probably sick in the head; what the hell was _wrong_ with him, his body, the universe, what would-?! How could this even...?!

o.o.o

Bruce had every intention of solving the Grayson murders as soon as possible and then never seeing Dick Grayson again, but then he discovered that the child had been locked up and abused in a juvenile detention center. And _then_ he kept coming across the crazy little bird on the rooftops, tracking down Tony Zucco with a ferocity that didn't seem to match his tiny body and the carefree laughter of his performing persona.

Maybe it was because it was _his_ soulmate in danger or maybe just because it was a suffering eight-year-old in desperate need, but Bruce finally broke down and got licensed, brought young Dick Grayson home, shut himself into his room, and then curled into himself, digging his fingernails hard into his scalp. "God help me," he whispered.

Hours later, he went to tell Alfred, _'Never let me be alone with him.'_ But no, he should have told Alfred right from the start, not now after he'd agreed to foster the boy. It was obvious he had ulterior motives, Alfred would be...horrified and ashamed. Even more than Bruce was of himself. Bruce couldn't stand it, the only person he thought of as family rejecting him even though he'd deserve it, so he kept quiet, and resolved to find Dick Grayson a good foster home as soon as the Zucco mess was dealt with.

o.o.o

The problem was. Bruce loved Dick Grayson.

He tried, _tried_ not to. But once Zucco was caught and Dick became Robin and started to recover his spirits... Bruce couldn't bear the thought of parting from him. Richard was so _beautiful_. A single smile, a single _glance_ from those big blue eyes made Bruce's heart _melt_ , just like in the damn stories. His laughter made Bruce's heart soar. Watching him run around the mansion, filling the gloomy, dim halls with life and light again; hearing his chatter, listening to his _ridiculous_ jokes, the utter horror Bruce felt whenever his little one acquired a new bruise or bump or scrape (or even worse injury out on the streets)...

 _'I love him,'_ Bruce thought in despair, watching Dick and Ace chase each other around the yard. _'I would die for him. I'm too weak.'_

It wasn't a one-way thing, either. Bruce had seen the matching soulmate mark in the changing area of the cave, an ink-black print of his own hand plastered across Dick's tiny back. From when Batman had rested his hand on the boy grieving over two broken, sequined corpses. Dick was bound to a full-grown man, and Bruce was so ashamed that he couldn't bear to look at it. He insisted that Dick keep his back covered, even while swimming; thanked God that the boy seemed completely unaware of his own soulmate mark; prayed that it would be a long, long time before Dick or Alfred found out.

Dick scared him, coming into his room after nightmares. The first time, Bruce didn't have the heart to send the child away when he was in such distress, but as Dick snuggled into him and slowly relaxed, Bruce lay rigid and awake for two hours, waiting to feel some evil urge. Ready to fight off his own dark desires and send Dick away to safety before it was too late and he hurt the little boy he adored.

Fortunately, it never came. Whether it was because he was so on guard or maybe because his body was simply waiting for its counterpart to mature, Bruce didn't know, but whatever the reason, he was incredibly grateful he never became aroused or felt any other terrible compulsions. All he felt was the need to keep Dickie safe and warm and protected, and it only lasted for a few months, anyway. By the time Dick started to become a man, it had been a long time since he'd slept in his foster father's bed, and Bruce was so grateful he'd dodged that bullet, even though the memories of his presence soothing away the child's nightmares made him feel rather wistful.

o.o.o

Dick grew older. Grew more headstrong and stubborn. Left.

And _this_ was why Bruce had never wanted a soulmate, or one of the reasons, anyway; because the loss of his other half _hurt like hell_.

He missed Dick's brightness and noise around the manor. He missed his little Robin's interruptions and insights in the cave. He missed his partner on patrol, always having his back, knowing him so well that they could communicate without even speaking.

The love of Bruce's life was _gone_ , and even though it was a good thing, it also felt kind of like dying, and he _hated it_.

o.o.o

More children came. In some ways it was easier, because Bruce had nothing to fear from himself and he could relax, simply being their father.

In other ways, it was harder, because he understood none of them as well as he'd come to understand Dick. Jason was adorable yet kept catching him off-guard, their life experiences and worldviews vastly different. Tim could be completely in sync with him at times (usually vigilante-related times), yet at other times Bruce did not understand his calculating, self-destructive disaster of a third son at all. (Maybe because they were _too_ alike.) He felt completely out of his depth with Cass; Damian was a complete, incredibly frustrating mystery...

It was a trade-off, but if not understanding his younger children meant they were safe from him, it was worth it.

o.o.o

Dick married Koriand'r of Tamaran, and Bruce did not understand.

She was an alien, as good as a meta; he hadn't known her very well because she was a Titan, not a Gothamite; she was... _fine_ , good, even, as a vigilante, but as...family?

All those things bothered him a bit. Just a bit; honestly, he could get over it. And Bruce did not understand why his other half, his counterpart, his _soulmate_ was getting married to _someone else_ and Bruce was more or less okay with that. Kind of looked forward to having grandchildren someday, if anything.

Shouldn't he be more upset? Why wasn't he jealous? _Was_ this feeling jealousy, or just an obligatory sort of 'I'm only jealous because I know I'm supposed to be' feeling? Did that even count as jealousy?

He tried to broach the subject with Dick, subtly, a few weeks after the engagement was announced. "I haven't seen a soulmate mark on her; is it...somewhere she keeps covered up?" Tamaranean fashion was not exactly modest, but there were still a few places a soulmate mark could conceivably be (though it was a bit disconcerting if their very first touch had been somewhere so intimate).

Dick gave him a strange look. "S-marks are an Earth thing, Bruce."

Bruce knew this. Clark had no soulmate mark, but Lois did from the time he had first touched her.

"And even if aliens did have marks, you know that people get married to non-soulmates all the time, right?"

"I know it's more common nowadays, yes."

Dick patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Dad. Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean I don't still love you."

Bruce froze. Did Dick know? Was he angry? He didn't _seem_ angry. He'd called him 'Dad;' was it simply familial love he meant? Had Dick really gone _this long_ without realizing that he had a giant black soulmate mark on his back? Surely he knew by now, but he'd never mentioned it to Bruce at all. Did he think it was someone else's mark?

By the time Bruce collected his wits again, Dick had wandered off.

o.o.o

Bruce wondered, as he lay there with Selina in his arms. The sex was...good. Very good. He found her _attractive_ , sexually and personally, in a way he'd never once found Dick. He didn't regret marrying her. She had no soulmate mark at all, and thought he didn't have one, either; he kept it covered with a shield of false skin, and the companionship and the sex and the fun were enough for them.

They weren't soulmates. She felt to him like she could be, she felt like what he _thought_ soulmates were supposed to feel like.

But if it was a choice. Between the woman he had fun with, who made him feel good; the woman he and she both could have lived with or without just fine; between her and his eldest child, the light of his life who'd been the first to re-teach him joy so many years after that horrible night in Park Row...

Bruce knew which one he'd pick. And he knew it was probably the wrong one (or maybe the right one). And he knew Selina would understand. He asked one time; she _did_ understand, and he understood, too, when she said she'd choose her sister over him, if it ever came to that.

Maybe, if Bruce had gone against all his morals and declared himself to Dick, changed their legal status and gotten married once the boy came of age, had...relations...with him...maybe it would have somehow worked out better than this. Somehow. Made him- _them_ deliriously overjoyed or something, instead of just content. Soulmate marks existed for a reason, after all; maybe Bruce was missing out. Maybe _Dick_ was missing out.

But they didn't know what they were missing, and since the thought of taking his son to bed still made Bruce feel sick, he vastly preferred not knowing.

o.o.o

Dick and Kori had a daughter. They were very happy.

Bruce and his own wife also had a daughter, and he was happy, too. Maybe he was happy because his soulmate was happy? He hadn't had to marry his own son to feel like that, so it was a decent theory.

Looking at Helena's little face, tracing over her tiny fingers and toes, watching her sleep or peer around at her surroundings, it filled Bruce with such joy, he couldn't imagine how he would need a soulmate to feel better than this. He couldn't imagine how whatever was in charge of soulmate marks could even _dream_ of sullying such a pure relationship as that between a parent and their child.

Screw S-marks.

Dick Grayson was Bruce's soulmate, was married to someone else, and was happy, and Bruce was also married to someone else but was still happy, especially every time the Graysons came to visit him. Every time he saw Nightwing on a mission, even simply saw him mentioned in the news or social media.

It didn't make any sense, but it was good, and Bruce made the decision to stop worrying about it. All that mattered was that it was good.

o.o.o

Superman. Batman. Wonder Woman. The Flash. Aquaman. The first Green Lantern of Earth. Cyborg.

A few others. Nightwing; Green Arrow and Black Canary. The other Flash, Wally West, and another Lantern, John Stewart.

That was it.

"Two soulmate pairs. You have to lift out the stone together. Otherwise, you can't have it, and your universe crumbles."

The Justice League stared at each other in dismay. Green Arrow and Black Canary clasped hands, uncertainly moving forward, but no one else present had their soulmate with them. The universe was going to be destroyed because no other member of the Justice League had brought their soulmate along on this deep-space mission.

Except that wasn't true. Batman's soulmate was right there, just a few steps behind them, but he could not move or speak, and the universe was _actually_ going to be destroyed because he was too ashamed to admit that he was in love with the boy he'd adopted at age eight and raised as his own son.

Nightwing set a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, B."

Batman was already tense, and stiffened further at his son's words.

The hand pushed more insistently. "B. Come _on_."

"They need another soulmate pair," Batman managed to say despite the way his throat was closing in panic. Dick... _knew_?! He knew?! When had he found out?! Why hadn't he said anything?! Was that why he'd left, all those years ago, because he couldn't stand living in the same house as the pedophile he'd been saddled with as a soulmate...?

"Right," Nightwing said, impatient now, "and that's us." The rest of the League were staring at them, and Bruce wanted to die. "Oliver Queen and Dinah Lance, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. Two sets. Boxes checked. Let's go."

Batman's foot moved a step without him meaning to. "I'm not. In love with-"

"Are you kidding me right now?!" Nightwing exclaimed in exasperation. "Universe ending! Solution in sight! Move your butt!"

Bruce made it to the glowing blue stone, his insides crawling with shame. He couldn't look at anyone as he crouched with Nightwing on one side of it, fingers curling beneath the stone.

"On three," Nightwing called, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about revealing that his soulmate was the man who'd raised him. "One, two, _three_."

They finished the mission in a blur. Batman felt like a robot as he checked and rechecked the readings, made notes for the more thorough report he'd write later, and readied the ship. He set the autopilot, avoided Clark as the Kryptonian tried to reach out to him, and shut himself in one of the back cabins. Unless something attacked the ship, he was not going to come out until they reached home.

An hour later, Nightwing disarmed the locks and came in. Bruce couldn't look at him. "B," Dick said softly, crouching in front of him. "Why are you upset? I thought you were fine with it."

"...I didn't know you knew," Bruce muttered.

"Bruce. There's a mark on my back the exact size and shape of your hand. I've known since I was nine."

Unable to bear it, Bruce dropped his head into his palm. "I tried- I _tried_ , Dick, I never wanted- I don't-"

"Tried what?" Dick asked, genuinely confused. Then his voice suddenly grew sharp with hurt. "Tried to _stop_ being my soulmate?! That's- That's not a _thing_ , Bruce, I-!" He'd started pacing in agitation, then suddenly whirled. "Do you hate me or something?! I know that's not supposed to be possible, but hell, you're Batman, you _would_ be the one to figure out how to _erase your S-mark_ or whatever-"

"Why don't _you_ hate _me_?"

"...What?"

After a long moment, Bruce pulled off his glove. He rolled up his sleeve and hesitantly, then punishingly, dug his fingernails into the sheet of false skin, stripping it away until the damning blue mark was visible. It looked even tinier now that Dick's hands were so much bigger.

Dick exhaled. "So that's where it is. I've...never seen it. Sometimes I wondered..." He crouched again, gently reaching out to the spot where he'd first touched his father so many years before. Bruce curled his fingers into a fist, but he managed not to move his arm. "I don't even remember giving you this, actually."

"Your parents had just," Bruce ground out. "I put a hand on your back, and you braced your hand on my arm for a moment as you were turning."

"Huh." Dick lifted his face, which Bruce suddenly realized was unmasked, because he could not look away. The moment stretched as Bruce stared into his beloved's beautiful blue eyes, cringing, waiting for the accusations to fall. "Bruce," Dick murmured at last. "Why have you always been so ashamed of me?"

Bruce was breathless with shock.

"No matter...how hard I try, I've never been...good enough..."

"Dick!"

Dick's eyes snapped back to him, startled.

"You were _eight_. I wasn't about to force myself on a- on a _child_! God; it's _sick_ , you were just a little boy and I only ever wanted to be your father, your partner in battle, not- _this_! I don't even- I'm not even attracted to men, I don't _understand_ this; if I ever live long enough to retire, I'm going to use the time to research-"

"Bruce," Dick said in disbelief, "they're platonic marks."

"...What?"

"I- They're- Platonic. Soulmate marks. Are a thing. You didn't _know_?!"

Bruce stared at him. Reached for his cell phone. Set his hand down again, because it wouldn't have Internet access until they landed on Earth. "What?" he whispered.

"Oh my-" Nightwing flopped back on the floor, laughing helplessly for minute, then sat up again. "Bruce. Not _all_ soulmates are sexually attracted to each other. That's the majority, yeah, but there _are_ some platonic partnerships that are stronger than that, and we're one of them."

Bruce managed a grunt. That was the only thing he managed.

"Look, I love Kori and Mar'i to pieces, but my relationships with them are different than the one I've always had with you. My friends, my parents...Alfred, everyone - some of them are just as strong, but they're all different. We're partners, you and I, we always have been; dad and son, too, but- I mean, you're not that much older than I am. It's- We're those less-than-1%-of-the-population weirdos who love each other in this super-specific sort of way that- How did you not _know_?!"

Bruce didn't know how to answer. He didn't know how to feel. He just...sat there. Trying and failing to process.

"Bruce," Dick said softly, resting a hand on his knee. "All this time, you thought- you were going to hurt me or something? Since I was _eight_?"

"I'm-" Bruce started, but the apology stuck in his throat. After a long moment, he hesitantly put his arms around the young man he loved. Dick immediately returned the embrace and squeezed in reassurance, and then Bruce finally broke down, weeping softly into his shoulder.

Bruce didn't say anything for the rest of the flight, and though Dick eventually rejoined the rest of the League, Bruce remained in the cabin. As soon as he was home and had access to the Batcomputer, he started looking up platonic soulmates.

After a while, probably a lot longer than it had felt like, he noticed Dick curled up on an unused console, drinking something from a mug, wearing a tank top and Batman pajama pants. Dick smiled at the attention. "Hey, B."

"It is a thing," Bruce mumbled, turning back to the blog post on his screen.

"Yeah." Dick set the tea down and slid closer. "It did actually bother me, the first time I noticed it in the mirror and saw how big it was, but I asked Alfred, and he didn't treat it like a big deal, so I stopped worrying and it was fine. It didn't even occur to me that it might have been _your_ handprint until, like, months later. Then I was really happy, and I worked even harder to make you laugh and translate your grunts and microexpressions - not that I was thinking of it in those terms at the time, but that's what I was doing - and eventually I stopped thinking about it again.

"Then I was thirteen, and it was the first CSA case you let me help with, I think you'd been shielding me until then... It really upset me, and I was honestly kind of scared of you for a while. But you didn't act any different, and were kind of hurt when I drew back but you didn't...pursue me when I was uncomfortable, so that reassured me a bit. And a little after that was when I started asking around and doing research. S-mark studies weren't really a thing back then, but I did find some people like me. And we were all basically pretty confused together, but at least we weren't alone, so I stopped thinking about it again and decided I'd just keep living my life and not make a problem out of something that wasn't a problem.

"Then it became more and more obvious that I only like girls. Like, I _definitely_ like women my own age, not men and definitely not older men. And I just...I think I knew, then, on my own. That what you and I have is special, and it has nothing to do with sex or marriage and all that fairy tale stuff. I love you, and I can still like women. I love you, and I can still love other people. I can love Kori and Mar'i, and Babs and Wally and Donna. I can love Alfred and Tim and Damian and Helena, Clark and Jason and Selina and _everyone_. Love is love, soulmate or not, sex or not.

"And then a few years ago they started doing studies on sexuality and gender identity and soulmates, and it just...confirmed what I already knew." Dick smiled. "I can't _believe_ it didn't occur to me that you hadn't figured it out, that you'd just keep it secretly bottled up and brood angstily about it for _years_ , because _of course_ you would do that. Does Alfred know, at least?"

"He never said anything," Bruce mumbled. "...But he probably does."

There was a long, not-uncomfortable silence. Dick finally sighed and stretched, then hopped off the console and grabbed his empty mug. "I'm gonna sleep here, but I'm heading back to Bludhaven right after. I'll come find you before I leave."

"...Dick."

Dick halted and turned back. "Yeah?"

Slowly, Bruce got up. He approached his son and reached out, gently cupping the boy's...the young man's face. He searched Dick's expression at his leisure, free to study him in a way he'd never allowed himself to do until now. Dick gazed back at him patiently, waiting.

And for the first time in Bruce's life, he allowed himself to feel _everything_ he felt for this boy, this child he had taken into his home and treasured and protected, this boy he had wept and worried over. He let himself bask in the pleasure Dick had always given him with just his mere presence, his bright spirit and even his quieter times, when it had made Bruce feel better to comfort him and make him feel better in turn. Bruce remembered all the moments they'd shared, the small ones and the significant ones, the quiet ones and the fiery ones. The connections they'd forged, the fights they'd had, the reconciliations and understandings.

Dick Grayson had grown into a fine young man, a better, happier man than Bruce could have ever imagined in those first weeks of grief and anger. Bruce was incredibly proud of his son, and after a long time, he took a deep breath and was finally able to say aloud, "Dick...I love you."

The little smile playing around Dick's mouth instantly turned to a bright grin, and he tugged down Bruce's forehead so he could kiss it. "Love you, too, Dad." Then he turned away and went upstairs, and Bruce wandered to the medbay. He found a medical scrub and used it to remove the last remnants of the false skin. Then he closed out his work on the computer and changed into sleepwear, choosing a simple shirt that left his arms exposed.

He would never be ashamed of that little blue handprint again.


End file.
